THE   FURNACE: 


A    TALE    OF    THE    TIMES 


OF    THE 


IRON   HOOF. 


"  — which  devoured,  brake  in  pieces,  and  stamped  the  residue 
with  his  feet." — DANIEL. 


PAWTUCKET,  R.    I.: 

A.    W.    PEARCE,  PRINTER. 

1852. 


Entered   according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1852,  by 

MRS.  SOPHIA  L.  LITTLE, 
In  the  Clerk's  office  of  the  District  Court  of  Rhode  Island. 


TO    THE    READER. 


THE  little  work,  now  presented  to  the  public  was  writ- 
ten the  Autumn  after  the  passage  of  the  Fugitive  Slave 
law.  It  was  written  in  haste,  and  in  the  interval  of  an- 
other employment.  It  was  put  into  the  hands  of  a  friend 
for  publication  at  that  time.  Circumstances  over  which 
the  Author  had  no  control,  prevented  its  immediate  pub- 
lication. I  refer  any  one  who  desires  to  know  the  facts 
in  the  case  to  Mr.  John  H.  Willard,  of  Pawtucket.  It 
was  written  as  a  testimony  against  the  Fugitive  Slave 
Law.  I  wished  that  my  feelings,  concerning  that  law, 
should  reach  the  ears  of  the  people.  I  know  that  we  over- 
come "  by  the  blood  of  the  lamb  and  the  word  of  our 
testimony."  I  considered  the  mode  here  adopted,  the  sur- 
est method  of  access  to  the  people.  It  was  not  till  I  had 
decided  to  publish  it  that  I  met  with  that  wonderful  book, 
Uncle  Tom's  Cabin.  Thus  while  my  little  bark  lay  hin- 
dered in  port,  God  had  launched  forth  a  noble  vessel  on 
the  chafed  waters  of  the  public  mind.  If  any  one  thinks 
I  have  exaggerated  the  cruelties  of  slavery,  let  them  read 
Theodore  Weld's  Testimony  of  a  thousand  witnesses  ;  and 
see  how  the  dreadful  truth  exceeds  anything  my  pen 
has  here  portrayed  !  The  characters  are  in  their  main, 
delineations  from  the  life.  The  charity,  the  loveliness, 
the  piety  of  Marian,  are  not  Ideal — Sybil's  character  is 
drawn  from  one  I  know ;  and  who,  acquainted  with  Anti- 
Slavery  life,  has  not  seen  Gilbert  among  the  Fugitives  ? 
The  character  of  the  warrior  clergyman,  I  am  sorry  to 
say,  is  also  not  altogether  imaginary,  but  while  the  Chris- 
tian ministry  numbers  such  men  as  the  martyrs,  Torrey 
and  Lovejoy,  and  he  who  now  lies  in  a  southern  prison, 


and  many  more  burning   and   shining  lights,  we  will  not 
despair. 

I  have  shown  how  slavery  uproots  the  domestic  affec- 
tions, and  destroys  all  that  purity  of  attachment  between 
the  sexes,  which  is  the  boast  and  the  safeguard  of  Chris- 
tian civilization. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Wherein  the  hero  of  this  story  speaks  for  himself. 

"CoME  nearer,  Gilbert,  I  have  something  to  tell  thee  be- 
fore I  die.  I  never  dared  to  tell  thee  till  now  ;  but  thou 
must  keep  it  secret.  Thou  and  thy  sister,  Marian,  are  the 
children  of  our  Master.  God  has  forgiven  me,  for  thou 
knowest  the  sin  was  not  mine.  I  hear  that  Jonas  Free- 
man, the  good  friend,  who  told  me  about  the  great  friend 
in  Heaven,  is  coming  back  from  his  visit  to  England. 
When  he  returns,  Gilbert,  seek  him  out  and  he  will  be  a 
father  to  thee."  While  mother  was  thus  speaking,  I,  who 
had  been  weeping  and  sobbing  violently  at  the  door  of  the 
hut,  drew  nearer  the  low  straw  pallet,  where  she  lay, 
and  putting  my  arm  underneath  her,  rested  her  head  on 
my  swelling  bosom  !  The  disclosure  that  my  mother  now 
made  me,  did  not  much  affect  me,  for  my  whole  soul  was 
absorbed  in  the  thought  of  losing  her.  The  little  lone  hut, 
to  which  we  had  been  sent,  at  the  time  it  was  believed  we 
should  both  fall  victims  to  the  cholera,  stood  on  a  woody 
hill,  and  looked  down  into  a  broken,  irregular  ravine. 
Through  a  gorge  in  the  mountains  dashed  a  turbid  river  ; 
and  every  thing  around  us  was  formed  to  inspire  melan- 
choly yet  sublime  ideas,  and  unearthly  thoughts.  And 
here  I  was  alone  in  this  solitude  with  my  dying  mother. 
My  own  robust  constitution  had  conquered  the  disease  but 
my  poor  mother  had  been  long  consumptive,  and  although 
1* 


the  fell  malady  had  itself  passed  away,  it  had  hastened 
her  death.  I  was  now  just  nineteen.  We  had  never  been 
separated.  She  was  nurse  in  the  family,  and  I,  my  young 
master's  body  servant ;  so  that  our  situation  gave  more 
opportunity  for  the  tender  intercourse  of  mother  and  child 
than  that  of  many  other  slaves.  How  often  have  I  stolen 
to  my  mother  to  tell  her  of  the  cruel  treatment  I  had  re- 
ceived, and  to  find  consolation  in  the  sympathy  of  her, 
who  was  now  dying  in  my  arms ;  my  faithful,  tender 
mother  !  My  young  master  was  of  a  severe,  imperious 
temper.  He  would  not  allow  me  to  associate  with  the 
other  servants,  but  when  at  home  employed  me  continually 
about  his  own  person.  My  sister,  who  was  his  mother's 
waiting  maid,  I  saw  more  rarely.  My  mother  was  one  of 
the  most  motherly,  gentle  creatures  that  ever  lived,  over- 
flowing with  the  "  milk  of  human  kindness."  Her  master 
had  given  her  to  his  wife  as  a  nurse,  when  they  first  came 
to  reside  on  the  plantation,  which  was  not  until  after  they 
had  been  married  several  years.  He  had  forbidden  my 
mother,  on  pain  of  dreadful  penalties  ever  to  reveal  the 
former  connexion  between  them  ;  a  connexion  which  her 
dependent  situation  as  a  slave,  had  forced  upon  her  in  her 
youth,  but  which  she  had  resolutely  refused  to  continue, 
after  she  knew  her  Redeemer.  She  nursed  seven  of  her 
mistress'  children,  all  of  whom  died  very  young,  except 
my  young  master ;  but  this  was  not  to  be  attributed  to  the 
want  of  kindness  and  care  on  the  part  of  their  nurse. 
But  although  her  health  had  been  lost  in  their  service,  yet 
as  soon  as  my  mother  and  myself  gave  symptoms  of  the 
terrible  cholera,  we  were  both  banished  to  the  hut  for  the 
sick.  The  plantation  physician  called  on  us  once  or  twice, 


and  giving  his  opinion  that  our  cases  were  hopeless,  we 
were  left  to  our  fate.  My  mother  was  only  thirty-five 
years  old.  She  had  been  beautiful.  I  remember  her 
when  I  was  a  little  boy,  in  her  plain  Quaker  dress,  with 
her  erect,  graceful  form,  and  her  full,  tender  eyes,  so 
ready  to  overflow  with  tears.  She  was  as  true  a  Christian 
as  ever  lived.  I  loved  her  infinitely  ;  to  me  she  was  eve- 
rything. I  have  gone  to  her  after  being  severely  beaten, 
and  have  almost  forgotten,  while  I  heard  her  lovely,  sooth- 
ing voice,  that  I  was  a  slave.  But  now  the  hour  had  come 
for  me  to  lose  this  precious  friend  ;  yet  better  far  lose  her 
thus  than  to  have  her  sold  away  from  me  to  work  in  the 
rice  swamps,  as  was  the  mother  of  William  Brown.  I  felt 
this  a  sad  consolation  as  I  watched  the  features  of  my  dyins 
mother.  My  tears  fell  upon  her  face. 

"  Dear  Gilbert,"  said  the  ever  sweet,  but  now  failing 
voice,  "  do  not  grieve.  I  know  that  my  Redeemer  liveth. 
My  only  grief  has  been  to  leave  thee  and  thy  sister ;  but 
God  has  shown  me  that  thou  and  Marian  will  not  always 
be  slaves.  Be  a  diligent  seeker  for  Christ.  Comfort  my 
poor  Marian  ;  tell  her  not  to  mourn  for  me,  for  he  is  nigh 
who  has  redeemed  me.  Give  her  my  blessing." 

Here  her  voice  quite  failed  her,  yet  she  raised  her  head 
and  pressed  her  lips  to  mine.  I  folded  her  closer  to  my 

heart.     The  breath  left  her  with  that  last  kiss  ! 

****** 

I  went  into  the  still  night.  Oh  !  how  still,  how  awfully 
still !  I  knelt  down  beneath  the  spreading  tree  that  over- 
hung our  hut.  Now  there  was  nobody  left  on  earth  to  love 
me  as  my  mother  had.  The  years  of  her  brief  life  of 
toil  and  slavery  passed  before  me.  I  believed  she  was 


8 

happy.  I  implored  the  Almighty  to  suffer  me  to  join  her. 
I  besought  him  to  show  me  the  way  of  life.  I  gave  my- 
self in  solemn  covenant  to  him.  I  confessed  my  sins  from 
the  depths  of  my  breaking  heart,  and,  oh  my  gracious 
God  !  how  soon  the  joy  of  pardon,  the  peace  that  passeth 
knowledge  came  flowing  in.  I  knew  not  the  Redeemer 
till  then,  although  I  had  long  prayed  to  know  him.  I 
rose  from  my  knees  !  Everything  was  changed  ;  that  hut, 
that  miserable  hut,  looked  like  heaven ;  and  the  black, 
turbid  river  seemed  to  me  like  a  stream  of  Paradise  rolling 
on  in  celestial  music.  I  entered  the  hut,  and  approached 
the  bed  ;  with  what  different  feelings  I  now  gazed  upon 
the  beloved  dead  !  I  longed  for  her  to  know  my  happi- 
ness. As  I  leaned  silently  over  her,  a  supernatural  light 
hung  for  one  instant  over  the  bed.  For  one  instant  I  be- 
held my  mother  in  such  a  glory,  as  I  cannot  describe  ;  she 
smiled  upon  me,  and  the  vision  was  gone  :  but  that  smile 
was  full  of  a  new  communion  with  me,  the  "  communion 
of  saints."  I  went  to  dig  her  grave  ;  and  having  perform- 
ed the  sad  task,  I  prepared  to  bury  the  only  parent  that 
would  own  me  as  a  child.  It  was  early  dawn.  A  spicy 
air  came  up  from  the  woods.  A  faint  tinge  of  rosy  pur- 
ple defined  the  wavy  outlines  of  the  dark  hills.  That 
mingling  of  dawning  light  with  darkness,  seemed  at  once 
to  associate  itself  with  the  state  of  my  soul,  where  the 
gloom  of  my  mother's  death  was  illumined  by  the  new 
dawn  of  an  Eternal  Day  within  me.  I  had  just  lowered 
my  mother's  body  into  the  grave,  when  I  heard  a  sudden, 
painful  cry,  and  looking  up,  I  saw  my  sister  Marian  run- 
ing  towards  me.  "  Gibby,  dear  Gibby,"  said  she,  "  Oh  ! 
is  mother  dead  ?  Ah  !  what  shall  we  poor  children  do  ?" 


T  took  her  trembling  hand,  and  leading  her  into  the  hut, 
sat  down  beside  her.  I  then  told  her  all  about  our  moth- 
er's death  ;  and  how  the  Lord  Jesus  had  manifested  him- 
self to  me  as  he  does  not  to  the  world.  I  knew  this  would 
be  choice  comfort  to  her,  who,  though  younger  than  my- 
self, had  long  been  in  the  liberty.  But  though  she  sym- 
pathized with  me,  still  she  looked  thoughtful  and  anxious. 
I  enquired  if  anything  troubled  her. 

"  Yes,"  said  she,  but  I  cannot  stay  now,  for  fear  I  shall 
be  missed.  Mistress  returned  late  from  a  ball,  so  I  stole 
away  after  she  retired,  to  see  dear  mother  and  you  ;  but  I 
must  be  quick  and  get  back  again.  To-morrow  night 
there  is  to  be  another  great  party,  and  all  are  going  ;  if  I 
can,  I  will  meet  you  here  then." 

With  these  words  she  left  me,  and  I  returned  to  cover 
with  the  cold  sod,  the  precious  body  of  my  mother. 
While  thus  engaged,  my  young  master  appeared  on  horse- 
back. He  was  on  his  way  to  join  a  hunting  party. 

"  Oh  ho,  boy,"  said  he,  "  what  are  you  doing  here  r" 

"  Mother  is  dead,"  said  I,  mournfully. 

"  And  you  are  better,  I  see,"  said  he.  "  Show  your- 
self quickly  at  the  house." 

And  on  he  rode.  Not  one  word  of  pity  for  me  ;  not 
one  of  regret  for  the  woman  who  was  far  more  a  mother 
to  him  than  the  one  who  bore  him. 


CHAPTER  II. 

Gilbert  sketches  Characters. 

THERE  was,  in  my  master's  family,  at  that  time,  a 
nephew  of  my  master's,  who  was  also  his  ward.  He  was 
the  only  son  and  heir  of  a  deceased  sister  of  Mr.  Living- 
ston. She  had  married  a  wealthy  English  gentleman, 
who,  after  living  many  years  on  the  Island  of  Cuba,  re- 
moved to  New  Orleans  a  little  before  his  death.  He  was 
u  man  of  eccentric  character,  and,  seeing  his  son  disposed 
to  extravagance  and  pleasure,  he  had,  by  will,  conditional- 
ly trusteed  hir  son's  estate  to  his  uncle,  for  a  term  of 
years,  curtailing  him  of  all  but  a  bare  sufficiency,  unless 
he  regarded  him  as  a  guardian  until  the  expiration  of  the 
time.  He  also  gave  Mr.  Livingston  power  to  control  his 
son,  in  matrimonial  affairs,  during  that  period.  Mr.  Arthur 
St.  Vallery  was  now  twenty-two  years  of  age,  but  he  was 
still  called  Master  Arthur,  among  the  servants.  He,  like 
his  father,  was  an  original.  He  had  a  sort  of  careless, 
free,  dashing  manner,  concealing  real  power  of  mind  ; 
and  more  sensibility  than  he  cared  to  be  thought  to  pos- 
sess. A  real  shock  of  thick,  curling  dark  hair  was  his, 
very  irregularly  kept,  and  thickly  fringed  eyelids,  added 
to  the  expression  of  his  remarkable  eyes  :  eyes  where  the 
veil  of  the  soul  seemed  half'lifted,  just  to  show  you  that 
there  were  mysteries  within  that  soul  yet  unsolved,  and  not 
to  be  explored  by  vulgar  eyes.  Their  color,  a  dark  grey, 


11 

was  relieved  by  a  rich,  changeful  light.  The  face  of  this 
youth  was  altogether  an  enigma.  He  had  been  visitor  at 
the  plantation  often,  but  who  there  understood  him  ?  We 
poor  slaves  only  knew  that  of  the  two  we  liked  him  better 
than  Master  Sedley  Livingston,  my  young  master.  There 
was  also  in  the  family  another  visitant,  a  niece  of  Madam 
Livingston's  ;  Miss  Lucina  Woodville.  Some  of  the  slyer 
sort  among  the  slaves  remarked  "  that  it  was  curious  how 
Miss  Woodville  always  happened  to  make  her  visits  when 
Master  Arthur  was  at  Livingston  Lawn."  She  was  a  very 
sentimental,  pretty  young  lady  ;  played  the  harp,  professed 
religion,  wrote  poetry,  rode  on  horseback,  danced  grace- 
fully, and  was  considered  quite  "  au  fait." 

*#*### 

There  lived  near  the  plantation,  a  strange  old  woman 
whom  we  all  called  Aunt  Sybil.  Her  husband  and  her- 
self had  bought  their  freedom  in  their  old  age,  and  had  a 
little  home,  about  half  a  mile  from  their  old  one.  Her 
husband  was  now  dead.  Whether  Aunt  Sybil  really  com- 
municated with  the  invisible  world  or  not,  we  will  not  pre- 
tend to  determine  ;  but  she  was  very  devout  and  spiritual, 
and  withal,  wore  so  naturally  an  air  of  mystery  and  mar- 
vel, that  almost  all  the  young  folks  about  there,  both  col- 
ored and  white,  believed  that  if  she  would,  she  could  tell 
them  all  about  their  future. 


CHAPTER  III. 

Wherein  the  Narrator  takes  up  the  Story. 

THC  sun  had  gone  down ;  the  last  red  glow  of  his  de- 
parting light  had  faded  from  that  melancholy  stream  of 
which  I  have  spoken.     The  slaves  were  still  to  be  seen 
toiling  in  the   fields,  while  the    happier  beasts   and  birds 
went  to  their  rest.     Oh  !  that  slavery  should  ever  mar  the 
holy,  quiet  beauty  of  the  early  hour  !     A  glimmering  light 
appeared  in  a  rude  habitation  picturesquely  situated  in  a 
notch  of  the  hills,  a  little  from  the  road.     A  gushing  little 
waterfall  tumbled  near   it  and  formed  itself  into  a  fairy 
lake,   near  the  borders  of  the  small  domain.     A  heavy 
browed  hill  gloomed  over  the  lone  habitations,  which  at 
one  side,  opened  into  a  deep  green  glen,  beautifully  skirt- 
ed with  majestic  forest  trees.     The  cleared  and  cultivated 
spot  in  the  vicinity  of  the  cottage,  displayed  a  rich  herb,  and 
vegetable  garden ;  a   beautiful  patch  of  flowers  ;  a  bee- 
hive, and  a  poultry  yard,  the  riches  of  the  thrifty  inhabi- 
tant of  the  place.     But  the  bees  had  ceased  their  hum  ; 
the  fowls  were  at  roost  in  the  great  old  trees  ;  the  flowers 
had  closed  their  fragrant  bosoms.     A  large  old  sleepy  dog, 
at  once  the  friend  and  guardian  of  the  solitary  inhabitant  of 
the  hut,  slept  upon  the  broad,  stone  step.     A  tall  slender 
mulatto  youth,  very  light,  and  unusually  handsome,  came 
up   the  road,  and  reaching  the  hut,  gave  a  low  tap  at  the 
door. 


13 

"  Come  in,  Jasmyn,"  said  a  voice  within  ;  and  he  en- 
tered, cautiously  fastening  the  door  behind  him.  Jasmyn 
was  old  Aunt  Sybil's  grandson  ;  the  son  of  her  only  child, 
Myra.  Sybil  had  been  the  favorite  slave  of  Mr.  Living- 
ton's  mother,  who  had  given  to  her  handsome  grand-child 
this  fanciful  name.  The  name  was  happily  chosen.  It 
well  suited  the  poetical  soul  and  sweet  nature  of  the  gen- 
tle slave.  He  was  meek,  affectionate,  intelligent  and  pious. 
Yet  though  a  house  slave  and  very  docile,  he  was  often 
severely  whipped  ;  for  tyrants  ever  most  abuse  meekness. 
Stimulated  by  this  cruel  treatment  of  her  beloved  grandson, 
poor  old  Sybil  was  working  very  hard,  and  half  starving 
herself  to  purchase  his  freedom.  He  found  his  grandmoth- 
er seated  at  her  wheel.  Old  age  sits  kindly  upon  the 
African,  if  there  has  not  been  much  harsh  usage  in  pre- 
vious life  ;  and  old  Sybil's  still  erect  and  stately  form 
was  quite  a  contrast  to  the  slight,  graceful  figure,  of  her 
descendant.  She  wore  a  scarlet  turban  about  her  head, 
and  her  coarse  but  clean  blue  dress  was  relieved  by  a 
cross-barred  handkerchief  of  scarlet  and  white.  The  Afri- 
can skin  has  the  advantage  of  the  white  in  old  age,  in 
that  it  retains  its  pliancy  and  smoothness  longer,  and  its 
dark  color  appears  more  healthy  than  the  withered,  dingy 
yellow  of  the  skin  of  whites  at  the  same  age.  Aunt  Sybil, 
as  she  rose  from  her  wheel,  and  came  forward,  presented 
a  picture  of  healthful,  though  advanced,  old  age.  There 
was  an  air  of  mysteiy  in  her  searching  eyes  as  she  looked 
upon  you,  and  whether  she  had  or  had  not,  explored  "  the 
dreamy  vast  where  spirits  dwell,"  there  was  a  sort  of  ele- 
vating fascination  about  her,  which  made  that  old  hut  a 
very  different  place  from  common  abode  ;  and  that  curious 
2 


14 

old  dog  of  her's  as  much  a  theme  of  superstitous  specula- 
tion among  the  slaves,  and  excited  as  much  veneration  as 
Sybil  herself.  But  in  whatever  of  mystery  Sybil  might 
enwrap  herself  to  others,  to  Jasmyn  she  was  all  mother. 

"  Good  morning,  grandmother,"  said  he,  in  a  more  sor- 
rowful tone  of  voice  than  usual. 

"  Good  morning,  Jasmyn  ;  but  how  ill  you  look  ;  you 
are  ready  to  sink  down." 

"  O  !  I  am  very  well." 

"  Ah,  don't  think  to  hide  it  from  me  ;  ye  need  not  think 
to  hide  anything  from  me  ;  you  are  heart  sick,  and  soul 
sick,  and  body  sick."  So  saying,  she  took  hold  of  his  hot 
and  trembling  hands  ;  the  poor  lad,  unable  to  contain  any 
longer,  burst  into  tears.  "  Don't  take  on,  my  child,  think 
how  soon  you  will  be  free,  and  cheer  up,  my  lamb." 

"Ah,  mother!  mother!  My  heart  is  broken.  I  shall 
never  live  to  be  free." 

"  Jasmyn,  that  cruel  wretch,  Master  Sedley,  has  been 
beating  you  again,  and  all  because  Marian  loves  you  so 
dearly." 

"  Who  told  you  about  it  ?  " 

"•  Don't  believe  you  can  hide  anything  from  me.  I  saw 
it  all,  as  I  sat  alone  by  the  stream  ;  O  !  what  a  moaning  ; 
O !  what  a  groaning  sound,  just  like  your  voice,  my  poor 
boy.  I  saw  blood  on  the  stream,  and  your  mother  stood 
before  me  in  the  low  mist,  and  waved  her  shadowy  hands, 
and  cried  :  "  wo  !  wo  to  the  wicked  !  a  woe  that  hath 
wings  !  "  True  you  were  half  a  mile  off,  but  I  knew  what 
was  going  on.  But  cheer  up,  my  poor  boy  ;  let  me  wash 
your  back  with  this  oil,  the  old  Indian  woman  gave  me. 
She  said  it  was  a  charmed  oil. 


15 

Tenderly  she  removed  his  dress,  and  lifting  up  her 
hands  at  the  sight  his  back  presented,  she  exclaimed,  "  Oh 
God  !  when  will  thine  hour  come."  Then  the  poor  crea- 
ture bathed  the  gory  traces  of  thfe  lash  both  with  the  oil, 
and  her  fast  flowing  tears  :  all  the  while  trying  to  comfort 
her  darling  grandson  with  the  prospect  of  soon  being  free; 
but  she  had  not  finished  her  kind  task  ere  quick  footsteps 
were  heard  approaching. 

"•  There,"  said  she  to  Jasmyn,  "  go  quick  into  the  bed- 
room, and  lie  down  on  the  bed." 

She  had  hardly  closed  the  bed-room  door,  when  anoth- 
er tap  came.  She  withdrew  the  bolt,  opened  the  door  and 
stepped  back  surprised. 

"  Is  it  Master  Arthur  ?  "  said  she. 

"  Yes  ;  glad  to  find  you  alone.  Now  fasten  the  door, 
for  1  do  not  mean  that  any  one  shall  know  that  I  am  here. 
Uncle  and  aunt  think  I  am  very  sick  in  my  room." 

"  And  what  for  lie  to  them,  Master  Arthur  ?  " 

"  Because  they  wanted  me  to  go  to  the  Evans',  to  the 
ball,  and  I  did  not  mean  to,  that's  all." 

"  Not  want  to  go,  Master  Arthur,  when  Miss  Lucina  is 
there  ?  " 

"  That's  the  very  reason  I  won't  go,  and  you  know  that 
very  well,  you  cunning  old  fox  ;  for  the  devil  or  somebody 
like  him,  tells  you  everything  that  is  going  on  up  at  the 
house.  But  mum,"  said  he,  drawing  up  closer  and  low- 
ering his  voice,  "  you  don't  know  quite  all.  I  love  some- 
body else,  and  you  must  help  me  out :  that  is  what  I  have 
come  for  to-night." 

"  What  can  poor  Sybil  do  for  a  grand  gentleman  like 
you." 


16 

"  Everything.  But  you  must  swear  secrcsy  on  the  Bi- 
ble, for  if  you  breathe  the  least  word,  by  everything  great 
and  good,  you  shall  repent  it." 

"Master  Arthur,"  said  Sybil,  now  drawing  herself  to 
the  full  height  of  her  imposing  stature,  "  ye  need  not  to 
think  to  frighten  a  woman  whom  neither  the  living  nor 
the  dead  can  terrify.  Alone,  here,  in  the  stormy  night,  1 
hear  voices  that  are  more  than  yours,  Master  Arthur  ; 
and  I  sec  powerful  ones  that  do  not  make  Sybil's  heart 
move  one  bit  quicker.  I  am  not  afraid  of  mortal  man, 
Master  Arthur." 

Her  young  guest  felt  the  power  of  her  natural  majesty, 
and,  white  man  as  he  was,  and  in  the  strength  of  his 
youth,  he  cowered  before  her  ;  but  he  knew  her  weak 
point,  and  said  in  a  more  soothing  voice  : 

"  But  mother  Sybil  you  care  for  Jasmyn  r" 

"  Ah  !  my  poor  Jasmyn,  would  to  God  he  was  free  !" 

"  Well,  Sybil,  if  you  will  do  as  1  wish  I  can  bring  that 
about,  and  I  promise  you  I  will  accomplish  it." 

"  I  would  do  much  for  that,  Master  Arthur,  but  never 
swear  on  this  book  ;  it  is  too  much  like  making  an  agree- 
ment with  the  Evil  One." 

"  Some  say,"  said  Arthur,  "  you  did  that  long  ago, 
mam." 

"•  Because  they  think  I  cannot  get  the  same  knowledge 
in  a  better  way,  which  some  folks  seek  to  gain  through 
the  wicked  spirits.  No,  master,  that  not  like  me  ;  God 
and  good  spirits  show  me  great  tilings.  I  see  and  I  fore- 
sec.  I  knew  you  would  come  and  see  me  before  long. 
Did'nt  I  hear  the  tramp  of  your  horse's  feet,  you've  left 
hitched  a  bit  down  the  road  !  did'nt  I  hear  it  as  I  stood  at 


17 

my  wheel  to-day  ?  and  did'nt  a  warning  cry  come  before 
me  and  behind  me,  that  made  my  blood  shiver.  '  Be- 
ware, beware  !  a  snare,  a  snare." 

"  Now,  mam,  I  suppose  all  you  say  is  as  true  as  the 
Book  ;  but  besides  being  a  Seeress,  Mother  Sybil,  you 
have  a  deal  of  good  sharp  mother  wit  about  you  ;  hear  me 
then  ;  I  am  in  love  to  desperation,  and  you  must  help  me. 
You  know  well  what  influence  you  have  with  many  young 
folks." 

"  But,  Master  Arthur  is  not  in  love  with  that  sort ;  he 
wants  some  grand,  pretty  lady,  and  how  in  the  world  can 
I  help  him  ?  maybe  'tis  Miss  Lucina. 

"  No,  no,  nor  half  a  dozen  like  her.  I  love  a  quadioon 
girl." 

"  You  need  not  come  to  me  with  any  of  your  wicked 
love,  Master  Arthur.  I  am  a  Christian,  and  God  forbid  I 
should  help  you  out  in  such  a  thing." 

"  But,  mammy,  why  need  it  be  a  wicked  love  ?" 

"  Because  you  could  have  no  other  for  a  poor,  despised 
qu  adroon  ;  you  know  it,  Master  Arthur,  you  know  it." 

"  On  my  life  I  have  never  thought  a  moment  about  its 
being  wicked  or  good.  I  only  know  I  love  her,  and  why 
so  scrupulous  ?  You  know  slaves  have  no  real  marriages." 

"  Master  Arthur,"  replied  Sybil,  "  the  poor  slave's  not 
suffered  to  do  God's  will,  only  master's  will ;  he  marry 
us  his  fashion  ;  but,  as  soon  as  we  free,,  then  we  marry  in 
God's  true  holy  way." 

No  use  talking  all  this  nonsense,  Sybil.  I  am  in  love, 
and  you  must  help  me  out." 

"  Who  do  you  love  ?"  said  Sybil,  a  sudden  glimpse  of 
the  truth  flashing  across  her  mind. 
2* 


18 

"  I  love  Marian,  my  aunt's  beautiful  waiting  girl.  1 
dare  not  speak  to  her,  nor  hardly  look  at  her,  but  by 
stealth,  for  there  is  Sedley,  his  mother's  idol,  has  marked 
her  out  for  himself.  Aunt  Livingston,  who  denies  him 
nothing,  winks  at  the  thing.  Sediey  is  furiously  jealous. 
He  beat  your  poor  Jasmyn  to-day,  severely,  pretending  it 
was  for  some  negligence,  but  I  watched  the  whole  humor 
of  the  affair,  and  it  was  only  because  the  poor  boy  gave 
Marian  a  flower  or  two,  a  mere  act  of  common  gallantry. 
Who  could  help  it  to  such  a  creature  !" 

Sybil  felt  secretly  glad  to  find  from  Arthur's  manner  of 
speaking  of  the  transaction,  that  naturally  unsuspicious, 
he  had  not  detected  the  secret,  serious  attachment,  be- 
tween Marian  and  Jasmyn,  (which  was,  by  the  bye,  a  love 
as  true  as  ever  touched  the  finer  sensibilities  of  two  youth- 
ful hearts,  slaves  as  they  were.) 

Master  Arthur,  though  shrewd,  was  more  careless  than 
prying,  unlike  his  suspicious  cousin,  who  was  always  on 
the  alert,  and  though  affecting  the  gentleman  among  his 
equals,  was  not  ashamed  to  use  the  meanest  artifice  among 
his  dependents.  Arthur  was  above  this  ;  he  was  earnest, 
daring  and  sanguine,  the  master  passion  absorbed  all  oth- 
ers. He  could  only  think  of  that.  Sybil  was  growing 
uneasy,  lest  he  should  detect  the  prisoner  pro  tern.,  in  the 
bedroom,  and  was  casting  about  what  she  should  do,  when 
voices  of  persons  approaching  the  house,  were  heard. 

"  Where  will  you  conceal  me  ?"  said  Arthur,  "  I  must 
not  be  seen  in  this  place  ;  let  me  go  in  here,"  said  he, 
with  his  hand  on  the  latch  of  the  bedroom  door. 

'•  No,  no,"  said  Sybil,  much  alarmed,  but  not  a  whit 
betraying  it ;  "  my  dog  has  gone  in  there,  and  he  is  sav- 


19 

age  if  you  wake  him  at  night ;  but  go  out  this  way,"  said 
she,  opening  a  back  door,  "  and  if  you  please,  Master, 
come  again  in  an  hour  or  so,  and  I  shall  be  alone." 

"  I'll  warrant  somebody  come  to  see  our  Sybil  as  a 
Sybil,"  soliloquized  Arthur,  as  he  went  off  chagrined, 
"  uncle  is  so  severe  in  some  things,  and  so  loose  in  others. 
I'll  warrant  half  the  guard,  and  the  overseer  in  the  bar- 
gain, are  drunk.  Wonder  when  I  can  catch  this  strange 
old  Sybil  alone,  for  she  is  the  one  Marian  looks  up  to  for 
advice  and  direction,  and  bribed  she  must  be,"  said  he, 
mounting  his  horse  and  riding  off  towards  the  house. 
Sybil,  after  he  was  gone,  cautiously  opened  the  bedroom 
door ;  but  she  found  it  empty ;  the  bird  had  flown.  At 
the  first  sound  of  Master  Arthur's  voice,  poor  Jasmyn  had 
got  out  of  the  window,  and  crawled  home  as  well  as  his 
soreness  would  permit.  Jasmyn  loved  Marian  from  a 
child  ;  but  when  little  Marian  was  advanced  to  the  dignity 
of  lady's  waiting  maid,  she  was  no  more  allowed  to  be 
with  him.  A  slave's  feelings  are  little  noticed,  or  if  no- 
ticed, little  cared  for,  so  that  nobody  observed  their  love, 
save  the  jealous,  sharp-sighted  heir  of  the  Livingstons. 
These  human  chattels  are  usually  regarded  as  a  sort  of 
animate  automata,  to  be  simply  subservient  to  their  mas- 
ters' will.  Jasmyn  was  a  house  servant,  but,  as  we  have 
said,  severely  used.  He  had  been,  of  late,  closely  watch- 
ed by  Sedley.  That  day,  as  he  was  carrying  a  basket  of 
flowers  across  the  hall,  he  had  ventured,  as  he  thought 
unperceived,  to  give  his  dear  Marian  a  few  wild  roses  and 
violets,  he  had  gathered.  Sedley  saw  him,  however,  and 
saw  the  look  too,  with  which  he  presented  them.  As  soon 
as  possible  after  the  discovery,  he  made  a  pretext  to  chas- 


20 

tise  him  with  his  own  hanct,  without  mercy,  saying  to  hirn 
as  he  stole  away  weak  and  bleeding,  from  the  scene  of 
his  torture,  "  Be  careful  next  time,  rascal,  who  you  give 
flowers  to."  Poor  Jasmyn  hurried  to  his  grandmother's ; 
what  there  took  place,  the  reader  knows,  but  is  not  yet 
aware  whose  were  the  voices,  that  had  caused  Master 
Arthur  to  depart  so  opportunely. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

In  which  Gilbert  again  tells  Ms  own  story. 

"  Is  it  Marian  and  Gilbert  ?  "  said  Sybil,  as  she  cautious- 
ly opened  the  door  of  her  hut,  partially  discerning  us  by 
the  moonlight. 

"  Yes,  it  is  indeed,  Mother  Sybil,"  said  I,  "  we  have 
come  to  see  you  awhile." 

"  Ye  are  welcome,  ye  are  welcome,  children,  but  it  will 
not  do  for  you  to  stay  long  now,  for  somebody  will  be 
here  in  an  hour,  you  will  not  care  to  meet." 

"  But  what  is  that  on  the  floor,  near  the  back  door," 
said  Marian,  as  the  broad  moon-light  now  fell  on  the  floor, 
supplying  what  was  lacking  in  Sybil's  fading  torch.  "It 
is  a  letter,"  said  she,  stepping  forward  and  picking  it  up. 
As  Marian  held  the  letter  to  the  light,  I  looked  over  her 
shoulder  and  said,  "  It  is  Master  Arthur's  hand.  So  it  is 
he  that  has  been  here  to-night  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Sybil,  "  but  don't  breathe  it,  if  you  do  not 
want  to  make  trouble  for  me,  children." 

"  This  is  an  unsealed  letter,"  said  Marian,  "  I  should 
like  to  read  it,  if  it  is  right." 

"  And  I  shall  think  it  is  right,  sister,"  said  I,  "  after 
what  you  have  told  me  to-night,  and  thank  God  that  I  can 
read  it." 

"  No,"  said  Sybil,  "  don't  read  it,  for  God's  love,  good 
(iibby  ;  for  Master  Arthur  will  be  back  soon,  and  will  put 


22 

it  to  me  to  know  if  any  one  has  read  his  letter,  and  if  I  lie, 
the  angels  will  leave  me ;  I  shall  no  more  dare  to  see  the 
good  hermit  of  the  monntains  :  and  above  all,  the  Saviour 
will  hide  his  face  from  my  prayers  for  poor  Jasmyn." 

"  But  I  must  read  it,"  said  I ;  "  I  will  read  it,  and  throw 
it  down  again  just  there  by  the  old  mat,  where  we  picked 
it  up,  and  when  he  comes  in  let  him  find  it,  you  are  not 
obliged  then  to  know  anything  about  it." 

If  the  reader,  from  this  occurrence,  pharasaically  con- 
gratulates himself  that  he  is  a  more  conscientious  Christian 
than  I  was,  I  can  say  in  defence  of  myself,  I  was  natural- 
ly inclined  to  great  fairness,  but  slavery  forced  deception 
upon  me.  What  had  I  to  oppose  to  their  terror,  and  pow- 
er, but  my  mother  wit  ? 

In  this  particular  case,  I  was  certainly  justified.  The 
fate  of  my  only  bosom  friend,  my  sister,  hung  in  the 
scales,  and  I  am  sure,  when  the  candid  reader  peruses 
the  history  of  our  interview,  previous  to  our  visit  to  Sybil's 
hut,  he  will  acquit  me.  If  any  do  not  like  me,  however, 
let  them  leave  me  here,  for  they  are  about  to  read  the  ad- 
ventures of  a  mortal  man,  and  of  other  mortals  like  him- 
self ;  not  the  ideal  of  a  novelist,  or  one  of  those  biogra- 
phies, which  deify  poor  fallible  men  and  women,  so  that 
the  simple  scriptural  account  of  ancient  worthies,  with  all 
their  human  faults,  as  well  as  heavenly  virtues  about  them, 
looks  imperfect,  and  inferior  beside  them.  The  reader  will 
hear  of  poor  uneducated  or  self-educated  slaves,  not  the 
enlightened  Christians  who  enslave  them.  They  must  not 
then  be  squeamish,  if  the  hero  and  heroines  of  this  simple 
history  do  not  come  up  quite  square  with  those  rigid  rules 
by  which  they  judge  others.  The  letter  of  Master  Arthur, 


23 

which  1  thus  clandestinely  read,  was  as  follows,  being  ad- 
dressed to  one  of  his  college  friends  : 

My  Dear  Louis : — There    is  a  wonderful  beauty  here 
at  Livingston  Lawn,  but  she  is  a  quadroon,  and  to  my  in- 
finite vexation,  is  waiting    maid  to  my  aunt.     Now   for  a 
picture.     Imagine,    then,  one  of  the    finest   specimens  of 
Grecian  art,  animated  by  the  pure,  glowing  life  of  fifteen 
summers.     I  would  not  change  the  rose-tinted  olive  of  her 
complexion,  for  that  of  the  fairest  Caucassian  this  side    of 
Georgia.     It  suits  better  her  large,  soft,  gazelle-like  eyes, 
and  so  sets  off  the  pearly  teeth  and  the  roseate  lips.     She 
has  a   peculiar,    unstudied   grace    in   knotting    carelessly 
back,  her  raven  curls,  so  as  to  show  the   delicate   contour 
of  her  face  and  head.     You  must  know  that  I  am    not  al- 
lowed even  to  look  at  this  peerless   nymph.     I  have  been 
tempted  to  anathemize  the  manes  of  my  father,  for  giving 
me  over  to  these  Livingstons,  for  some    years  beyond  my 
natural  minority.     Forsooth,  he    said  he  saw  no  signs  of 
my  coming  to  years  of  discretion,  before  thirty,  if  I    did 
then  ;  that  I  had  fairly  spent  an  estate  in  college,   and  he 
meant  to  give  me  full  time   to  sow  my  wild  oats,  before  I 
came  into  the  blessed  fruition   of  hcirship.      So  you  per- 
ceive, my  dear  fellow,  I  have  many  years  of  probation  be- 
fore me  under  the  oversight  of  these  honorable  relatives  of 
mine.     These  Livingstons,  more  especially  Madam,  have, 
in  their  wisdom   and   providence,  selected  a  wife  for  me, 
and  of  course,  just  precisely  such  a  one  as  I  won't  have. 
And  yet  she  is  pretty,  wealthy  and  accomplished  ;  but  stop, 
I'll  give  you  her  picture  also.     There  are  millions  of  oth- 
ers just  like  her,  knowing  nothing  and  indifferent  to  every- 
thing, but  just  the  contracted  sphere  in  which  they  move. 


24 

The  other  day  she  and  I  were  walking  about  the  planta- 
tion ;  accidentally  we  blundered  on  a  part  of  the  grounds 
where  an  overseer  was  chastising  a  negro.  I  have  lived 
most  of  my  Hfe  near  such  scenes,  but  somehow,  cannot 
get  used  to  it ;  so,  as  I  was  for  steering  away, — 

"  Dear  me,"  said  she,  "  do  not  go  through  the  dewy 
grass  ;  I  shall  draggle  my  dress." 

"  I  don't  like  to  hear  poor  Bill's  cries,"  said  I. 

"Why  so?"  said  she,  "  1  presume  the  boy  deserves 
his  punishment." 

God  save  me  from  a  woman  that  has  no  more  sensibili- 
ty ;  well,  her  feelings  are  just  of  this  stamp,  all  of  them  ; 
all  cramped  up  within  conventional  rules.  What  could  I 
do  with  such  a  creature  ?  Why,  there  is  more  innate 
freedom  in  one  look  of  the  slave  Marian,  than  ever  Luci- 
na  Woodville  dreamed  of !  Then  she  is  one  of  those  fine, 
fashionable  saints,  and  I  tell  you  the  truth,  my  good  fellow, 
I  had  rather  see  a  regular  sinner  any  time.  If  this  reli- 
gion they  make  such  a  fuss  about,  is  any  thing,  it  is  every- 
thing, and  not  the  solemn  farce  which  some  would  make 
it ;  but  you  understand,  this  creature  has  no  life  at  all,  out 
of  a  particular  sphere.  She  was  converted,  or  thought  she 
was,  during  a  state  of  excitement  in  her  father's  church. 
If  she  ever  had  any  grace,  as  they  call  it,  it  has  all  settled 
down  into  a  set  of  formalities  coldly  observed.  She  goes 
to  our  dancing  parties,  but  contrives  to  have  it  given  out 
that  she  dances  to  please  her  aunt.  However,  she  is  an 
extremely  graceful  dancer,  and  both  sings  and  plays  well. 
Her  talk  is  made  up  of  fashionable  gossip,  and  fashions,  and 
fashionable  literature,  with  now  and  then,  more  especially 
when  any  of  the  godly  sort  are  present,  a  slight  sprinkling 


25 

about  Sabbath  schools,  sermons,  and  et  cetera.  She  is 
the  last  wife  for  my  taste,  any  how.  She  is  of  a  medium 
size,  pretty  pink  cheeks,  blue  eyes,  black  hair,  and  is  as 
neat  and  trim  as  you  could  wish.  I  am  somewhat  accu- 
rate in  my  description,  because  as  she  has  money,  and  you 
are  ia  sad  need  of  it,  you  might  take  her  out  of  my  way  ; 
especially  as  you  are  not  very  particular  who  the  wife  is, 
if  she  has  the  desirable  Mammon.  If  you  fancy  this 
speculation,  and  will  go  into  it,  as  soon  as  my  long  minor- 
ity is  over,  I  will  give  you  a  cool  thousand.  Your.per- 
sonal  recommendations  are  unexceptionable,  of  which,  my 
dear  fellow,  you  are  very  well  aware.  Then  you  have 
some  reversionary  expectations,  unless  your  stories  of  the 
Estate  in  Chancery,  and  the  rich  maiden  Aunt,  are  fabu- 
lous. I  have  only  one  temptation  to  try  the  thing  myself, 
which  is,  that  my  guardian  has  it  in  his  power,  if  he  pleas- 
es, to  shorten  my  probation.  As  he  receives  handsome 
compensation  as  guardian,  nothing  would  induce  him  to 
relinquish  it,  but,  perchance,  marrying  agreeably  to  his 
wishes.  This  is  the  only  bait  likely  to  catch  me.  But  to 
return  to  Marian,  do  not  think  I  mean  to  marry  her.  No, 
there  is  a  conventional  toleration  of  another  son  of  connex- 
ion, which  answers  all  the  purposes  of  a  papal  indulgence. 
Having  had  this  very  desirable  modern  standard  of  faith 
fully  inculcated  to  me,  I  have  no  desire  to  run  counter  to 
it,  and  thus  Marian  shall  be  mine.  There  is  a  sort  of  old 
Sybil,  half  a  mile  from  here,  a  rare  old  Christian,  and  by 
a  happy  hit,  her  name  agrees  to  her  character,  for  her 
name  is  Sybil.  And  a  fine  old  study  she  is,  too.  A  sort 
of  natural  magnetizer,  psychologist,  spirit  seer,  &c.  She 

has  an  unbounded  influence  over  the  young ;  to  her  I  am 
3 


26 

purposing  to  wend  my  way  to-night,  while  my  dear  uncle 
and  aunt,  and  pretty  Miss  Lucina,  think  me  sick  in  bed. 
I  took  some  medicine  on  purpose,  chalked  up  a  little,  and 
with  a  little  groaning  and  complaining,  got  off  from  a  dull 
party  at  the  Evans'.  Think  what  a  time  I  have !  uncle 
and  aunt,  and  Sedley  to  watch  me  !  Sedley,  who  is  run- 
ning through  Satan's  initiatory  degrees  as  rapidly  as  could 
be  wished,  having  himself  selected  my  "  bright,  peculiar 
star,"  as  an  object  worthy  of  his  devotions.  And  the  fa- 
ther and  mother,  dead  bent  to  marry  me  to  Lucina.  Be- 
sides all  this,  I  have  a  greater  obstacle ;  Marian  has  a 
brother,  hight  Gibby,  whose  love  for  his  sister  is  wonder- 
ful. This  Gibby  is  a  very  quick-witted,  intelligent  fellow, 
body-servant  to  cousin  Sedley.  I  don't  think  all  the  le- 
gions of  Beelzebub,  could  hold  him  a  slave  one  hour,  if  it 
were  not  that  it  is  impossible  to  get  his  sister  off,  with 
him.  But  if  his  master  or  mistress,  ever  take  the  twain 
on  any  of  their  northern  journeys,  they  will  surely  be  off." 
Thank  you,  for  the  hint,  I  exclaimed,  as  I  closed  the 
letter,  (for  all  that  remained  to  be  read,  was  an  assurance 
to  his  friend,  that  he  would  continue  his  letter  next  day, 
after  he  had  consulted  the  Sybil.) 

The  letter  we  had  read,  overwhelmed  my  sister  and 
myself,  with  thoughts  and  feelings,  which  neither  of  us 
felt  free  to  express  to  any  one  but  each  other ;  and  as  Sy- 
bil was  expecting  Arthur's  return,  we  soon  took  our  leave. 
Sybil  afterwards  gave  us  a  particular  relation  of  all  that 
transpired  between  her  and  Master  Arthur. 

She  said  we  had  not  been  gone  many  moments  before 
Master  Arthur  approached  the  hut.  He  looked  in  at  the 
window,  and,  seeing  Sybil  alone,  came  in  regardless  of  the 


low  growl  of  Scipio ;  so  called  by  Sybil  in  memory  of  her 
husband,  and  in  whose  shape  some  of  the  slaves  asserted 
that  her  husband  still  guarded  his  beloved  Sybil. 

"  I  have  lost  a  letter,"  said  Master  Arthur,  "  I  would 
not  have  it  fall  into  any  one's  hands  for  thousands.  I  think 
I  must  have  dropped  it  in  here.  Now  try  your  powers, 
Syb.,  and  if  you  are  anything  of  a  witch  or  a  prophetess, 
you  can  find  it  for  me  :  and  if  you  do,  your  fee  shall  bo 
this  dollar." 

"  Master  Arthur,"  said  Sybil,  "  you  never  did  believe  I 
could  see  into  things,  but  I  can,  Master  Arthur." 

"  Well,  Mum,  if  you  will  only  find  my  letter,  I  promise 
to  be  a  full  believer  in  your  powers  ever  after." 

"  Scipio,"  said  Sybil  to  her  dog,  "  go  look  around  the 
room,  and  see  if  you  can  find  Master  Arthur's  letter.''' 
The  dog  rose  reluctantly,  shook  his  heavy  mane,  and  went 
slowly  nosing  about  the  floor.  Presently  he  stopped  by 
the  mat,  picked  up  the  letter,  and  carrying  it  in  his  mouth 
to  Arthur,  laid  it  on  his  lap. 

"  Well  done,"  said  Arthur,  handing  the  dollar  to  Sybil, 
"  you  out-do  the  Fakir  of  Ava.  And  now,"  said  he,  "  if 
you  will  only  be  as  powerful  over  Marian,  and  win  her 
smiles  for  me,  Jasmyn  shall  be  free.  Come,  promise  to 
do  your  best  for  me,  and  if  I  can  plan  the  thing  safely,  let 
us  have  a  meeting  here,  soon." 

Sybil  knew  it  was  better  to  seem  to  yield,  and  she  said 
"  as  you  please,  Master." 

"  Good  Sybil,"  said  he,  "thank  you;  I  shall  rely  on 
your  services,  to  do  your  best  for  me.  I  must  return  im- 
mediately, or  I  shall  meet  the  folks  returning  from  the 
ball." 


28 

Sybil  sat  awhile  ruminating,  and  then  exclaimed  "  yes, 
I  will  do  my  best  for  you,  to  keep  you  from  sinking  your 
poor  soul  deep  in  hell,  by  ruining  such  a  holy  young  maid- 
en as  Marian  !  Aye,  she  is  a  slave,  a  poor  mulatto  slave. 
You  would  sooner  marry  the  white  devil,  that  haunts  round 
our  old  overseer's  grave,  than  Marian,  though  she  had  the 
soul  of  a  heavenly  angel.  Ah !  wicked  ones,  you  can 
range  your  whole  plantation,  but  nothing  will  do,  but  you 
must  have  my  poor  Jasmyn's  pet  lamb.  You  would  kill 
poor  Sybil,  soul  and  body  to  get  her  ;  you  would  kill  Jas- 
myn,  to  get  her,  and  Gibby  too,  but  I  will  do  my  best  for 
you,  Master  Arthur.  My  wisdom  is  not  enough  ;  I  must 
see  the  old  man  of  the  mountain,  though  it  is  along,  rough 
journey  for  me."  Then  bidding  Scipio  lie  quietly,  and 
watch  her,  she  prayed  fervently,  and  lying  down  on  her 
humble  bed,  was  soon  asleep. 


CHAPTER  V. 

In  which  Gilbert  relates  his  visit  to  the  hut  for  the  sick. 

On  the  evening  when  the  aforesaid  scenes  took  place  in 
Sybil's  cottage,  I  asked  permission  to  go  to  the  hut  for  the 
sick,  to  burn  up  the  straw  my  poor  mother  had  lain  upon, 
clean  and  fumigate  the  house,  and  get  it  in  order  for  the 
next  slave  who  should  be  sick.  I  was  allowed  to  go ;  and 
having  performed  my  task,  I  sat  down  in  full  sight  of  the 
new  made  grave  of  my  mother,  awaiting  the  arrival  of 
my  dear  sister,  somewhat  anxiously,  at  first,  because  my 
time  was  limited.  Remembering,  however,  that  our  pat- 
rol were  careless,  oft-times,  I  grew  calmer,  and  insensibly 
the  sweet  feelings  were  again  renewed,  which  I  had  first 
experienced  on  this  sacred  spot.  My  heavenly  joys,  the 
dew  of  my  spiritual  youth,  was  fresh  upon  me.  I  was 
never  weaiy  of  drinking  in  the  divine  influence,  that  seem- 
ed to  rain  upon  me,  from  the  still,  eloquent  heavens,  those 
old,  everlasting  hills,  and  the  dark  forest,  and  all  around 
me.  As  I  mused,  a  trance-like  sleep  stole  over  me  ;  the 
scene  before  me  seemed  changed  to  Calvary.  I  saw  three 
crosses,  and  on  them  three  men  suffered  unto  death.  But 
the  one  in  the  midst — oh  !  there  was  more  than  man  can 
think,  of  love  and  suffering  !  "  That  was  the  visage  moro 
marred  than  any  of  the  sons  of  men".  It  was  love's  ex- 
tremity !  An  infinite  God  could  do  no  more  to  declare 
boundless  love,  than  this.  As  I  gazed,  I  felt  very  much 
1* 


30 

humbled  and  awed  at  the  sight.  My  sins  looked  greater 
than  the  Universe.  These  had  brought  him  there,  to  become 
my  Savior.  The  vision  slowly  passed  away,  and  I  had  a 
view  of  my  mother's  spirit.  Joy  and  love  flowed  from 
her  eyes.  "Dear  son,"  said  she,  "  hold  fast  that  thou 
hast, — let  no  man  take  thy  crown."  She  then  passed  away 
with  a  wonderful  melting  of  music,  through  the  air,  and  I 
awoke.  Marian  was  beside  me.  I  would  not  disturb 
you,  said  she,  you  looked  so  happy.  I  took  her  hand,  led 
her  into  the  hut,  and  we  prayed  together.  Oh,  how  sweet 
it  was  to  pray  here  alone,  with  that  dear  sister,  now  one 
with  me  in  Christ !  I  then  said,  tell  me  now,  Marian,  what 
troubles  you. 

"  Ah,  Gibby,"  said  she,  how  often  mother  told  us,  when 
we  were  children,  we  knew  not  yet  the  bitterness  of  being 
slaves  !  how  she  would  cry  over  us  !  She  said  we  must 
get  into  the  love  of  Jesus,  or  we  could  never  bear  it.  I 
have  found  it  true,  lately.  Gibby,  you  know  Jasmyn  and 
I  were  brought  up  together  ;  when  we  were  little  children 
we  loved  to  be  together.  As  we  grew  older,  we  sought 
God  together,  we  found  peace  together,  we  have  always 
been  as  one  ;  and,  Gibby  dear,  I  love  Jasmyn,  and  I  know 
he  loves  me  dearly  well.  I  have  been  happy,  till  lately, 
in  believing  God  would  open  our  way  for  us  ;  but  for  some 
time  now,  that  wicked  Sedlcy  has  persecuted  me  every 
chance  he  has,  with  his  wicked  love.  Poor  Jasmyn  found 
a  chance,  as  he  thought  unobserved,  to  give  me  a  sweet, 
sweet  bunch  of  wild  flowers  ;  but  Master  Sedley  saw  him, 
and  soon  made  an  excuse  to  whip  him.  I  can  hear  his 
screams  now  !  God  forgive  me.  I  was  tempted  to  curse 
him,  Jasmyn  suffers  only  for  loving  me." 


31 

With  these  words,  she  burst  into  a  passion  of  tears,  sob- 
bing out,  "  now  I  know  the  bitterness  of  being  a  slave." 
Alas  !  what  could  I  say  or  do  to  control  the  violence  of 
her  grief!  Even  those  religious  feelings,  which  were  in- 
woven with  the  earliest  growth  of  her  gentle  spirit,  only 
increased  her  distress,  for  they  caused  her  to  look  with 
more  horror  on  him,  who  would  violate  her  purity.  I  was 
almost  tempted  to  risk  everything  and  fly  with  her  from 
the  scene  of  her  dangers,  but  I  well  knew  there  was  no 
chance  for  us  at  that  time.  I  trembled,  when  I  thought  of 
her  perilous  situation.  Madam  Livingston  I  knew  almost 
worshiped  Sedley  ;  although  she  would  not  directly  favor 
his  criminal  views,  she  would  not  oppose  them.  I  also 
knew  what  she  did  not  know,  that  her  son  and  Marian 
were  half  brother  and  sister.  This  knowledge,  I  now  felt 
it  necessary  to  communicate  to  my  sister,  under  strong 
injunctions  of  secresy.  She  heard  it  with  deep  emotion. 

"  I  have  longed  in  my  heart,"  said  she,  "  to  see  my 
father,  and  to  know  him,  and  now,  dear  God  help  me!  I 
know  him  but  to  know  he  is  my  tyrant  and  my  master." 

This,  thought  I,  is  Slavery.  Oh,  Slavery,  accursed 
Sorceress,  who  transformest  the  parent's  heart  into  a  ti- 
ger's— who  panderest  the  blessed  ties  of  nature,  to  beas- 
tiality  and  cruel  covetousness ;  where  is  there  a  fiercer 
fury  than  thou  art !  The  lashes  of  millions  of  scourges 
dropping  human  flesh  and  gore  form  thy  snaky  locks. 
Ravening  fires  of  the  pit  burn  in  thine  eyes,  ever  insatia- 
ble, ever  watching  for  the  prey.  Yet  to  thee,  ten  millions 
of  white  freemen  conspire  to  offer  up  human  sacrifices. 
For  thcc  they  send  out  their  armies  to  unjust  conquests  ; 
and  burning  villages,  ravished  virgins  and  infants  scream- 


32 

ing  in  the  flames,  attest  the  reality  of  their  devotion  to 
thee  ;  while  Jehovah  is  dishonored  by  mixing  these  horrid 

rites  with  the  worship  of  the  God  of  love. 

***** 

From  my  position  as  Master  Sedley's  body  servant,  I 
knew  him  perfectly.  His  position  as  the  only  son  of  a 
large  slaveholder,  conspiring  with  a  cold,  selfish,  imperious 
temper,  had  made  him  a  heartless  tyrant. 

I  had,  however,  a  greater  object  of  dread  in  the  more 
shrewd  Master  Arthur,  who  was  a  youth  of  great  determi- 
nation and  perseverance.  Notwithstanding  all  his  manage- 
ment, I  had  seen  enough  to  convince  me  that  my  sister  was, 
if  possible,  more  in  danger  from  him  than  his  cousin.  I 
told  Marian  my  fears. 

"  I  did  not  like  to  speak  of  him,"  said  she,  for  fear  you 
should  think  there  might  be  something  in  my  ways  not 
right,  for  me  to  draw  the  notice  of  both  these,  but  I  am 
very  careful ;  yet  every  opportunity  Master  Arthur  has, 
which  is  not  often,  he  will  be  saying  something,  or  offering 
me  some  little  present ;  but  let  us  now  go  to  Aunt  Sybil's, 
she  knows  so  much  perhaps  she  can  advise  us  what  to  do." 

"  1  will  go  with  you,"  said  I,  "  but  I  caution  you  not  to 
trust  her,  or  any  one  too  much.  From  this  hour,  I  prom- 
ise you,  here  by  this  dear  grave,  I  will  study  some  way 
for  us  to  escape  from  our  tyrants."  So  saying,  we  turned 
towards  Sybil's  cottage.  What  there  took  place,  the  read- 
er knows.  As  I  tossed  that  night  on  my  miserable  bed,  I 
saw  my  sister  helpless  before  me,  surrounded  by  dangers 
from  which  I  could  not  save  her,  and  I  felt  the  bitterness 
of  slavery. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Most  a  chapter  of  observations  and  reflections,  from  Gilbert. 

Sybil's  hut  was  the  scene  of  a  variety  of  meetings.  Mr. 
Livingston  was  not  uniform  in  his  discipline,  but  in  some 
respects  the  economy  of  his  plantation  was  very  rigorous, 
in  others,  unusually  lax.  He  trusted  his  affairs  mostly  to 
his  subordinates,  being  himself  engrossed  in  politics,  liter- 
ature and  pleasures.  He  permitted  one  meeting  at  Sybil's, 
on  condition  we  were  all  in  at  an  early  hour.  There  was 
an  old  standing  regulation,  that  there  must  always  be  one 
or  more  white  persons  present,  from  the  plantation  family, 
but  this  was  little  attended  to.  The  religious  part  of  our 
number,  had  our  regular  religious  meetings,  at  Sybil's 
house,  but  we  had  secret  meetings  where  we  talked  of  oth- 
er things. 

It  was  a  time  of  great  but  secret  excitement  among  the 
slaves.  The  hope  of  one  day  obtaining  our  freedom,  had 
been  increasing  in  our  breasts.  The  rumor  of  those  men 
who  were  "  turning  the  world  upside  down,"  in  their  con- 
tention with  the  rulers  of  the  darkness  of  this  world,  had 
reached  us  in  the  old  Dominion,  The  very  earnestness  of 
our  masters  to  persuade  us  that  these  men  were  our  ene- 
mies, only  strengthened  our  faith  in  them.  I  speak  now 
of  the  more  intelligent  among  us,  and  those  were  usually 
the  most  religious,  for,  mark  it  where  you  will,  when  a  mart 
becomes  a  Christian,  he  becomes  a  man  in  every  respect, 


34 

No  man  is  truly  a  freeman,  till  Christ  has  made  him  free. 
The  invisible  thrall  which  holds  the  spirit,  is  broken  only 
by  Jesus.  He  that  has  known  this,  can  rejoice  in  this  truth. 
Let  Slave-holders  dream  as  they  will,  the  germ  of  Liber- 
ty is  deeply  sown  among  their  best  slaves,  and  the  more 
they  seek  to  crush  it,  the  more  it  will  grow. 

Mr.  Livingston  often  gave  entertainments  to  the  gentry 
around,  and  standing  behind  my  half  brother's  chair,  I 
often  heard  with  swelling  heart,  and  burning  cheek,  of 
the  triumphs  of  southern  policy  and  the  extension  of  Sla- 
very. I  remember  one  day  the  great  man  dined  with  us, 
who  lived  and  died  the  bulwark  of  southern  Slavery,  and 
yet  professed  himself  a  believer  in  Him  who  came  to 
preach  the  Gospel  to  the.  poor,  and  deliverance  to  the  cap- 
tives. (Let  no  man  say  it  was  the  spiritual  captives,  and 
the  Spiritual  poor  only,  for  I  will  refute  them  with  the 
words  of  the  Apostle  :  "  Hearken,  my  beloved  brethren, 
hath  not  God  chosen  the  poor  of  this  world,  rich  in  faith, 
&c."  I  will  refute  them  with  the  acts  of  Christ  :  did  he 
give  sight  only  to  the  spiritually  blind  ?  did  he  give  hear- 
ing only  to  the  spiritually  deaf  ?  nay,  for  he  is  the  "  Sa- 
viour of  the  body,"  as  well  as  of  the  soul.  He  says,  the 
Kings  of  the  earth  exercise  authority  over  each  other,  but 
we  must  be  equals.")  I  would  to  God,  this  great  opposer 
had  known  the  Lord ;  far  better  would  it  have  been  for 
him  in  that  day  when  it  shall  be  said,  "  Inasmuch  as  ye 
have  done  it  to  one  of  the  least  of  these,  ye  have  done  it 
unto  me." 

The  next  evening  after  the  eventful  visit  to  the  hut,  was 
the  time  for  the  usual  weekly  meeting  at  Sybil's.  These 
were  the  only  religious  meetings  we  really  enjoyed.  We 


35 

had  veiy  little  elsewhere  addressed  to  us  in  true  sympathy 
with  our  condition.  Jesus  Christ,  in  pity  to  his  poor,  des- 
pised sheep,  often  speaks  to  them  in  open  vision.  Many 
think  these  visions  are  all  superstitious  delusions.  Some- 
times they  may  be,  but  I  believe  that  God  does  communi- 
cate himself  marvellously  to  them  ;  the  child-like  spirit  of 
their  faith,  causing  them  to  see  what  unbelief  hides  from 
other  eyes. 


CHAPTER  VII. 
Sybil's  Journey. 

There  was  a  mysterious  personage  living  at  some  little 
distance,  of  whom  the  older  slaves  told  marvellous  stories. 
Sight  of  this  being  had  been  gained  by  one  or  two  favored 
ones.  Some  totally  disbelieved  in  the  existence  of  such 
a  person,  and  laughed  at  the  more  credulous.  Many 
thought  or  hoped  that  he  was  an  angel  sent  from  God,  to 
deliver  the  slaves.  Some  believed  him  a  wizard  ;  others, 
that  it  was  Lucifer  himself.  Sybil,  it  was  thought,  knew 
more  about  him  than  any  one  else,  and  she  esteemed  him 
a  supernatural,  but  benevolent  being.  Long  before  the 
purple  dawn  tinged  the  east,  Sybil  arose,  and  putting  a 
little  dried  fruit,  cheese  and  bread  into  a  basket,  set  off  on 
her  journey  to  the  old  man  of  the  mountains.  Noon  saw 
her  near  the  place  of  her  destination.  She  had  passed 
through  a  thick  forest  and  now  came  out  on  the  wild  and 
rocky  banks  of  a  stream,  whose  waves  washed  the  shore 
with  a  melancholy  yet  soothing  sound.  Towards  a  rough 
eminence,  that  jutted  out  over  the  water,  Sybil  now  took 
her  way,  and  ascended  the  acclivity  a  little  way,  to  where 
a  clump  of  trees,  round  which  a  vine  draped  its  foliage, 
effectually  screened  a  small  fissure  in  the  ascent.  This 
was  the  entrance  to  a  cave.  Sybil  entered,  ejaculating  a 
prayer  as  she  went  in.  All  was  darkness  in  her  progress 
down  the  opening  for  a  few  moments  :  at  length  she  came 


37 

out  into  a  lofty  cavern.  Broken  chasms  high  in  the  rock, 
let  in  the  light,  and  through  them,  if  you  clambered  up 
the  steep  sides  of  the  cave,  might  be  seen  the  stream  from 
the  mountains,  and  there  you  ever  heard  the  unceasing 
voice  of  its  waves,  as  they  greeted  the  shore. 

Sybil  was  greatly  disappointed  to  find  the  inhabitant  of 
the  cavern  absent ;  but  it  would  seem  he  had  not  long  been 
away,  for  a  large  ancient  Bible  lay  on  a  table  hewn  out 
of  the  solid  rock ;  one  or  two  other  volumes  lay  beside  it. 
On  another  slab  of  stone,  was  a  wooden  plate,  bowl  and 
spoon.  A  homely  bed  of  dried  leaves  formed  the  resting 
place  of  the  anchorite.  Long  strings  of  dried  fruit  and 
herbs  hung  upon  the  sides  of  the  cavern,  and  a  bag  or 
two  of  parched  corn  made  up  the  stores  of  the  old  man  of 
the  mountain.  There  was  an  old  high-backed  chair,  and 
a  rude  seat  made  of  a  board  supported  by  large  stones. 
A  dark  heavy  curtain  veiled  something  in  the  corner. 

Sybil  was  for  the  first  time  alone  here  ;  but  in  former 
visits  her  curiosity  had  often  been  awakened  about  the 
veiled  corner;  yet  now,  though  alone,  her  reverence 
would  not  allow  her  to  raise  the  curtain.  Much  wearied 
with  her  journey,  she  sat  down  in  the  old  chair,  and  re- 
freshed herself  with  the  little  stores  in  her  basket,  gazing 
about,  the  while,  as  if  she  enjoyed  being  in  this  strange 
abode.  She  had  not  been  seated  long  before,  through 
weariness,  she  fell  asleep.  All  at  once,  to  her,  the  cav- 
ern seemed  to  fill  with  transparent  light,  and  she  beheld  a 
black  man,  of  Titanic  stature,  around  whom  twined  a 
huge  serpent.  The  man  writhed  and  grew  weak  as  the 
serpent  coiled  around  him  and  darted  out  his  flaming,  fork- 
ed tongue,  on  which  was  written,  in  deadly  venom,  these 
4 


38 

words,  "  Fugitive  Slave  Law."  Sybil  heard  many  voices 
out  of  Heaven,  "  Save  him  ;"  and  many  shrieks  from 
fiends,  "  Crush  him  ;"  but  still  the  serpent  wound  his  coil ; 
and  Sybil  cried  out,  "  Just  God  !  wilt  thou  not  save  him  !" 
She  looked,  and  lo,  an  infant  of  perfect  beauty  came 
out  of  a  star  in  the  east,  and  it  came  near  where  the  man 
was  struggling  in  the  mighty  coil  of  the  Serpent,  and  laid 
its  tiny  hands  on  its  voluminous  folds  ;  and  the  serpent 
hissed,  but  had  no  power  to  fear  down  the  bold,  though 
harmless  child,  who  began  to  unwind  the  death-folds,  and 
la  !  the  hands,  so  delicate,  at  first,  waxed  stronger  with 
every  fold  he  unwound  !  Then  the  vexed  serpent  lashed 
his  tail  and  hissed  ;  and  his  eyes  glared,  and  he  throw  out 
his  forked  tongue.  But  the  Holy  Infant  feared  not  the 
venom,  and  shrunk  not  from  the  threatening  glare  of  the 
serpent's  eye ;  nor  did  he  quiver  to  see  his  fearful  convul- 
sions that  shook  the  earth !  One  by  one,  the  coils  un- 
wound, and  the  more  despeiately  raged  the  foe,  till  at  last 
the  whole  huge  volume  of  folds  fell,  and  the  monster  laid 
dead  at  the  feet  of  the  brave  child,  and  the  black  man 
shouted,  I  am  Free !  and  the  highest  Heaven  re-echoed, 
thou  art  Free  !  and  amidst  the  voices  of  a  multitude  in 
praise,  Sybil  awoke.  The  old  man  of  the  mountains  had 
returned,  and  his  eyes — .those  spirit-like  eyes — greeted 
her  as  she  awoke,  trembling  by  reason  of  the  greatness 
of  that  vision.  And  he  said  to  her,  "  thy  vision  was  dread- 
ful, but  refreshing  in  its  end,  was  it  not,  Sybil  ?"  But 
Sybil  said,  "  'tis  sweet  to  dream,  but  wo  to  wake  ;"  and 
she  wrung  her  hands  and  said,  "  tell  me  !  tell  me  !  what 
will  become  of  the  three  millions  of  God's  enslaved  chil- 
dren ?"  And  the  old  man  covered  his  wonderful  eves 


39 

awhile,  and  reclined  along  his  couch,  as  musing,  and 
Sybil  still  wrung  her  hands  and  cried,  "  what  shall  be 
their  fate  ?"  And  the  old  man  said,  "  cheer  thy  heart, 
Sybil,  I  see  a  beautiful  prospect  for  the  children  of  thy 
people."  Then  he  arose  and  passed  his  hand  over  the 
burning  brow  of  old  Sybil,  and  reverently  smoothed  back 
her  white  hair,  and  she  grew  calmer  in  a  moment  or  two^ 
and^said,  "  I  came  here  for  advice."  "  I  know  all,"  said 
the  hermit.  "  Last  night,  I  sat  alone,  on  the  shore,  in 
deep  prayer, — for  I  know  that  an  angry  cloud  is  gathering 
over  all  flesh ! — sleep  came  over  me,  and  as  I  slept,  I 
dreamed,  and  I  saw  in  my  dream  a  large  hollow  place, 
and  a  black  cow  there,  who  seemed  in  great  distress.  As 
I  stood  on  the  verge  of  the  hollow,  it  was  said  to  me,  *  the 
black  cow  is  confined  ;  there  is  a  heavy  fine  on  any  one 
who  shall  release  her,  or  ever  feed  her,  or  give  her  drink, 
and  she  is  in  the  desperation  of  hunger  and  thirst.'  I  saw 
her  incessantly  run  up  the  sides  of  the  hollow  to  escape, 
but  all  in  vain.  She  was  forced  back  again,  bellowing  with 
the  fierce  anguish,  and  I  exclaimed  :  Oh  !  God,  what  no 
relief,  not  a  crumb  of  bread,  not  a  drop  of  water.  There 
comes  a  time  when  they  who  have  done  this,  shall  ask 
in  vain  for  mercy  ;  '  for  he  shall  have  judgment  without 
mercy,  who  hath  shown  no  mercy.1  Then  said  I,  I  will 
go  among  the  multitude,  and  see  if  she  can  be  delivered 
from  this  inhuman  law  ;  for  oh  !  God,  she  perishes  before 
our  human  eyes.  The  poor  creature  rushed  up  again,  but 
when  she  heard  the  voice  of  my  words,  she  stopped  again 
and  lowed  meekly.  Then  the  vision  passed  away  and  I 
saw  not  the  end,  but  the  tears  were  hot  in  my  eyes,  and 
it  was  said  to  me,  '  Look  again.'  I  looked,  and  behold  ! 


40 

a  fair  large  field,  and  a  mansion  wherein  dwelt  a  noble 
woman  and  her  family.  I  saw  also  a  beast  of  burthen  of 
great  growth.  It  had  a  keeper,  who  laid  upon  it  intolera- 
ble loads,  and  at  length  with  barbarous  goading  drove  it  to 
desperation,  and  it  broke  loose,  and  walked  into  thewomens' 
demesne  and  lo  that  seeming  beast  of  burthen  was  trans- 
formed into  a  man  of  gigantic  stature.  He  became  pow- 
erful and  terrible.  Then  the  woman  said,  '  thou  wilt  'not 
harm  me  or  my  children,  for  we  have  ever  been  thy 
friends.'  As  she  spake,  the  terror  of  his  dark  counte- 
nance went  off,  like  the  appearance  of  thunder  from  a 
summer's  day,  and  the  vision  passed  away.  Then  was 
the  meaning  of  the  vision  made  known  to  me.  The 
black  cow  in  the  hollow,  is  the  type  of  the  Enslaved  Peo- 
ple, and  she  is  a  just  emblem  of  their  domestic  servitude, 
their  usefulness,  docility,  and  the  natural  mildness  of  their 
race.  There  cometh  forth  from  the  unjust  rulers,  a  cruel 
enactment,  to  make  more  hopeless  and  desperate  the  poor 
slave,  and  to  cut  him  off  in  his  flight  from  bondage.  Yet 
the  multitude  shall  be  moved  thereat,  and  shall  hear  the 
voice  of  God's  mercy  through  man.  Thou  sawest  not  the 
end,  and  the  end  is  not  yet,  but  the  time  is  at  hand,  when 
the  slave  shall  be  free.  The  second  vision  is  like  unto  the 
first ;  the  Jezebel,  Slavery,  hath  transformed  men  into 
beasts  by  her  witchcrafts.  The  time  hastens,  yea,  it  now 
is,  when  these  beasts  of  burthen  shall  be  driven  into  the 
fold  of  a  royal  woman,  and  there  shall  they  assume  their 
manhood,  and  shall  become  formidable  ;  yet  in  gratitude 
to  her  and  her  children*,  shall  they  grow  into  the  calm 

*  These  two  last  were  actually  dreamed. 


41 

beauty  of  a  peaceful  freedom,  and  forbear  violence  in  her 
borders." 

Sybil  heard  the  words  of  the  old  man  with  reverent  at- 
tention and  faith.  "  Thank  God,"  said  she,  clasping  her 
hands  with  energy,  "  there  yet  is  hope.  Now  tell  me  what 
you  know  of  my  errand  to  you  to-day,  for  you  say  you 
know  all." 

"  I  will  tell  you  ;  this  morning  ere  the  morning  star 
touched  with  her  rays  the  tops  of  the  mountain,  I  arose 
and  went  forth  to  the  shore,  where  in  a  vision,  an  An- 
gel stood  by  my  side.  Among  the  'Enslaved  Race,1 
said  he,  (now  the  peculiar  care  of  Heaven)  "  there  is  a 
maiden  greatly  beloved  for  her  purity,  and  holiness.  There 
are  few  of  the  daughters  of  men,  so  free  from  guile.  I 
am  her  Guardian  Angel.  To-morrow,  Sybil  will  visit  thee. 
Tell  her  to  bid  Marian  go,  on  the  Sabbath-day,  to  the  wat- 
er-fall by  the  glen,  beyond  Sybil's  dwelling,  called  by  some 
the  Haunted  Glen,  and  there  shall  she  hear  the  oracle  of 
her  destiny.  So  the  vision  left  me,  and  I  returned  into 
the  cave,  but  being  exhausted  with  the  vision,  I  again 
threw  myself  on  the  bed  to  rest  awhile.  Soon  I  fell  asleep 
and  in  my  dream  I  saw  a  beautiful  damsel  ;  her  skin  was 
as  amber,  for  clearness ;  her  eyes  were  as  the  new-born 
flowers  of  the  morning,  breathing  out  their  fragrant  soul 
through  their  beauty.  Her  smile  was  still,  and  sweet  as 
the  repose  of  an  angel.  Three  youths  I  saw,  who  looked 
upon  her  with  love  ;  two  were  of  the  tyrant-race,  and  the 
blood  of  the  oppressor  ran  proudly  in  their  veins.  These 
looked  upon  her  as  the  wolf  looks  upon  the  young  and 
timid  lamb,  or  the  vulture  on  the  meek  and  delicate  dove. 

The  third  youth  was  like  herself,  of  the  mingled  race  :  the 

4* 


42 

fullness  of  whose  soul  is  yet  hidden  in  the  light  and  tender 
bud.  His  love  is  the  fruitage  of  Eden,  growing  over  her 
closed  walls,  and  reaching  down  to  exiled  man,  pure  and 
refreshing.  It  is  the  love  of  Genius,  baptized  by  affection. 
This  young  slave  who,  looking  on  Marian,  sees  his  heart's 
ideal  of  freedom,  love  and  purity,  manifested  in  her,  deter- 
mines nothing,  plans  nothing,  as  yet ;  only  loves.  He 
has  only  yet  become  a  man  so  far  as  to  feel  himself  a 
slave.  I  am  not  permitted,  oh  Sybil,  as  yet,  to  see  Mari- 
an's fate  ;  but  as  thou  lovest  and  fearest  the  Lord  of  Hea- 
ven, Earth  and  Hell,  be  not  bribed,  to  give  her  aught, 
or  throw  the  soothing  spell,  or  do  anything  that  shall  black- 
en thy  soul  in  the  day  of  Eternity.  A  day  of  trial  is  at 
hand  for  thee.  Go  home  ;  watch  and  be  prayerful ;  yea, 
hasten  home,"  said  he,  placing  his  hand  on  her  head, 
in  token  of  benediction.  "  Go  and  refresh  the  souls  of 
the  disciples,  wiih  hope  sweet,  though  distant.  Fear  not, 
thou  shall  be  holpen  on  thy  way." 

Sybil  asserts  that,  on  her  way,  becoming  weary,  she 
fell  asleep  under  a  tree,  and  when  she  awoke,  she  was  in 
another  place,  far  on  her  journey,  so  that  she  reached 
home,  at  early  evening. 


CHAPTER  V11I. 
In  which  Gilbert  describes  a  prayer  meeting. 

IT  was  the  old  fashioned  religion,  such  as  Paul  and  Silas 
had,  such  as  the  Ethiopian  eunuch  had,  such  as  the  three 
worthies  in  the  Furnace  had  ;  the  religion  which  has  had 
a  hard  time  of  it  upon  this  earth,  from  the  days  of  right- 
eous Abel  until  now  :  the  true  religion  of  Jesus  Christ, 
which  drew  together  to  poor  Sybil's  hut,  a  little  handful  of 
God's  "  bruised  wheat,"  his  oppressed  and  much  despised 
poor.  Glad  were  they  to  turn  from  the  contempt  and  cru- 
elty of  man,  to  the  loving  kindness  of  the  Beloved  of  souls  ! 
If  this  religion  were  not  a  reality,  I  should  not  want  to  be 
a  reality  myself.  Slavery  is  the  greatest  of  earthly  curs- 
es ;  but  if  I  must  choose  between  liberty  without  a  Saviour 
and  slavery  with  him,  I  should  say  give  me  Jesus  in  this 
hell  of  slavery,  rather  than  the  heaven  of  freedom  without 

him. 

******** 

Again  the  glorious,  full-orbed  moon  rose  in  majesty  over 
the  superb  old  forest  trees  that  skirted  the  lone  glen  ; 
again  the  waterfall  glittered  in  her  light,  as  we  came  in 
sight  of  Sybil's  hut.  Poor  harassed  slaves  were  we ;  yet 
we  felt  that  we  were  going  to  ask  and  receive  a  draught 
from  the  well-spring  of  eternal  life.  What  though,  to 
a  higher  civilization,  our  worship  might  look  ungainly  and 
rudely  enthusiastic  ?  We  were  owned  by  him  whom  we 


sought.  The  rich  have  much  of  the  bread  of  this  life  ; 
the  godly  poor  have  an  abundance  of  "  that  bread  which 
cometh  down  from  heaven."  As  we,  in  our  peed,  seek 
unto  them  for  that  in  which  they  most  abound,  so  it  is  often 
the  case  that  a  spiritually  hungry  rich  person,  gets  his  soul 
well  feasted  with  heavenly  manna  in  the  humble  gather- 
ings of  the  poor.  When  we  reached  the  hut,  we  found 
Sybil,  who  had  just  arrived.  The  little  hut  was  soon  in 
order,  and  the  rustic  benches  soon  occupied.  There  was 
an  old  man,  a  kind  of  elder  among  us,  whose  name  was 
James.  We  called  him  Elder  James.  He  was  a  man  of 
great  power  in  God,  and  the  sound  of  his  voice  was  like 
the  voice  of  a  trumpet.  He  was  often  mighty  in  prayer. 
When  all  were  assembled  that  night,  he  commenced  thus  : 
"  Lord  God  !  we  have  not  come  here  to-night  to  mock  thee 
with  form -worship.  We  come  to  ask  of  thce  the  loving 
forgiveness  of  our  sins  for  Christ's  sake  ;  and  oh  !  thou 
who  wast  once  a  sufferer  like  us,  and  for  us,  give  thy  poor 
slave  children  to-night,  a  foretaste  of  glory.  Yes,  glory, 
my  God  !  right  down  from  the  eternal  throne.  Glory,  my 
dear  Saviour  God,  we  must  ask  to-night  in  thy  own  dear 
name.  See  how  poor  we  are  ;  see  how  bruised  and  beat- 
en we  are,  we  poor  slaves.  Come  down  in  our  midst, 
dear  Jesus  ;  break  our  souls'  chains  to-night ;  make  us 
forget  our  stripes  and  leap  for  joy.  Oh,  glory  !  I  feel 
the  running  streams  of  salvation  flowing  into  my  soul, 
sweeter  than  the  honey-comb  !  Blessed  Jesus  !  all  thanks 
and  praise  to  thee.  Thou  hast  heard  and  answered  us  to- 
night in  thy  great  compassion.  The  fire  is  running  from 
heart  to  heart,  the  all-uniting,  all-overcoming  love  of  God, 


45 

Jesus  is  here  right  in  our  midst.  Let  us  praise  him,  let  us 
praise  him  forever  and  ever.  Amen,  and  Amen !" 

The  power  had  indeed  come  down  as  he  prayed.  Yea, 
the  Holy  Ghost  fell  on  every  one  of  us.  I  rose  next,  for 
my  soul  swam  in  floods  of  bliss,  and  hallelujahs  leaped 
from  my  lips  !  "  Praise  God  !"  I  shouted  with  the  full 
strength  of  my  voice !  Praise  God  !  Jesus  Christ  has 
made  me  free  !  He  has  bought  my  soul's  liberty  with  his 
precious  blood !  He  has  broken  the  slavish  bonds  of  Sa- 
tan with  his  nail-pierced  hands!  Praise  God,  my  breth- 
ren !  Praise  God,  my  sisters  !  I  have  seen  him  with  the 
eyes  of  my  soul — my  Lord,  who  was  crucified  for  me. 
And  now  they  may  whip  me,  they  may  torture  me  to 
death,  but  they  cannot  get  Christ  away  from  me.  Whips 
cannot  do  that ;  chains  cannot  do  that ;  death  cannot  do 
that.  No,  nor  hell  itself, — I  paused,  but  my  soul  was  full 
to  overflowing. 

Next  an  old  man,  who  sat  crouched  upon  a  low  seat, 
his  arms  folded  over  his  breast  as  if  he  were  afraid  he 
should  lose  something,  cried  out, 

"  I*  am  afraid  to  stir,  for  fear  I  should  lose  it  out  of  my 
heart ;  my  heart  so  big,  full  with  this  great  blessing." 
Shouts  of  praise  filled  the  air  while  we  spoke.  Surely  it 
might  be  said  of  us,  "  the  shout  of  a  king  was  among  us." 
It  was  all  heavenly  harmony  to  me.  Next  rose  my  dear 
sister;  she  had  not  joined  in  the  triumphant  shout  so 
heartily  as  the  rest,  for  her  young  heart  was  struggling 
with  new  trials.  But  a  soft,  angelic  light  tempered  the 
sadness  on  her  brow,  as  she  sweetly  said,  "  Dear  friends, 

*  Fact, 


46 

as  I  was  weeping  alone  to-night,  and  thinking  of  my  bles- 
sed mother,  who  has  gone,  and  many  other  things,  I  seem- 
ed to  hear  a  low,  still  voice  saying,  even  unto  me,  "  Let 
not  your  heart  be  troubled,"  and,  as  I  thought  upon  these 
words,  my  soul's  sight  opened,  and  I  saw  a  glimpse  of 
"  the  King  in  his  beauty,"  and  "  the  Land  that  is  very 
far  off,"  and  though  I  could  not  shout,  to-night,  the  high 
praises  of  God,  as  ye  have  done,  yet  I  can  see  by  faith, 
"  the  land  of  rest,  the  saints'  delight."  So  saying,  she 
stepped  a  little  forward  in  the  circle,  and  commenced 
singing,  like  an  angel,  the  inspiring  hymn,  "  On  Jordan's 
stormy  banks  I  stand."  All  joined  in  one  rich  burst  of 
music,  through  that  glorious  hymn  ;  all  felt  their  right  to 
an  inheritance  which  no  slave-holder  can  ever  take  from 
them.  All,  did  I  say  ?  No ;  there  was  one  who,  as  we 
closed,  cried  out,  "  What  shall  I  do  to  be  saved,  what  shall 
I  do  to  feel  as  you  do  ?"  This  was  a  young  man,  a 
stranger,  who  sat  back  in  one  corner  of  the  room.  Mr. 
Livingston  had  bought  him  lately  of  a  trader.  "la  poor 
slave,"  said  he,  "  I  come  from  very  dark,  heathen  place  ; 
I  never  heard  these  things  like  I  hear  them  here.  Oh 
what  shall  save  me  ?  "  We  gathered  around  poor  Philip  ; 
a  sad  spectacle  he  was,  emaciated,  scarred,  branded  ;  we 
preached  to  him  Jesus  ;  we  prayed  for  him  ;  and  he,  poor 
soul,  prayed  for  himself.  Soon  he  found  peace,  his  dark 
face  beamed  with  joy.  The  half  had  never  been  told  him. 
I  thank  thee,  blessed  Emanuel,  for  this  divine  religion. 
Let  nothing  take  from  the  slave  that  faith  which  is  his  all 
in  all."  Now  old  Sybil  arose  after  awhile  in  her  reverent, 
natural  dignity.  "  Oh  !  children,"  said  she,  "  ye  love  King 
Jesus,  and  I  tell  you  to  cling  to  him,  for  sore  troubles  are 


47 

at  hand.  I  saw  Satan,  the  God  of  this  world,  sitting  on  a 
throne,  and  it  was  all  made  of  golden  coin ;  and  I  saw 
many  pillars  under  the  throne  linked  together  with  heavy 
chains  of  gold.  I  saw  three  evil  beasts  arise  out  of  the  earth, 
and  behold  !  Satan  blew  a  signal  blast,  and  those  beasts 
arose  to  the  chase,  and  hunted  down  our  people,  through 
the  length  and  breadth  of  this  gospel  land.  I  saw  Satan 
send  forth  the  strong  force  to  help  them  hunt  us  out 
from  the  cast,  and  the  west,  and  the  north  ;  to  make  our 
chains  sure,  and  our  bonds  faster.  I  looked  above  Satan's 
throne,  but  for  a  time,  I  coutd  see  nothing  but  black  gloom- 
ing clouds  roll  thundering  along ;  no  light !  no  light ! 
and  I  heard  the  groans  of  the  captive  grow  deeper,  and 
no  light  yet !  And  the  strong  force  went  forth  proudly ; 
but  lo !  I  saw  a  still  force  suddenly  meet  the  strong  force, 
and  the  still  force  was  mightier  than  the  strong  force,  and 
the  three  evil  beasts  did  in  a  while  quail  before  it,  and 
shrunk  back  to  the  very  steps  of  Satan's  throne.  Then  I 
looked,  and  beside  me  stood  a  very  fair,  tall  young  man, 
in  white,  shining  raiment,  and  a  lovely  pair  of  wings  from 
his  shoulders.  What  does  this  mean,  thou  glorious  angel, 
said  I,  trembling.  '  The  throne  thou  seest,'  said  he, 
4  showeih  thee,  who  rules  the  darkness  of  this  world.  The 
evil  beasts  are  three  wicked,  powerful  men,  who  will  hunt 
the  escaped  of  thy  people,  to  re-enslave  them.  There 
will  be  a  '  time  of  trouble,'  and  Egypt's  darkness  :  but  the 
'  most  High,  who  beareth  rule  over  all,'  shall  take  pity, 
and  he  shall  be  in  the  still  force,  and  thereby  shall  it  over- 
come the  strong  force,  even  unto  the  end." 

There  was  silence  among  us  after  Sybil  ceased,  for  a 
moment ;  but  sudde'nly,  the  door  opened,  and  our  cruel 


48 

overseer  appeared  with  several  others,  his  eyes  flashing 
with  rage  and  brandishing  the  fell  scourge,  the  fit  weapon 
of  cowardly  tyranny,  in  his  hands. 

"  Away  with  you  !  away  with  you  !  "  he  cried,  and 
they  drove  us  all  before  them  like  a  flock  of  sheep  driven 
from  some  green  spot  in  a  desert  land,  by  a  troop  of  rav- 
ening wolves.  We  had  unconsciously  overstaid  our  time, 
and  now  were  to  receive  a  severe  chastisement. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

In  which  Gilbert  still  continues  the  History. 

We  were  all  taken  to  the  usual  scene  of  punishment,  a 
building,  the  bare  sight  of  which  was  to  us  agony  and 
despair.  There  they  ranged  us,  and  prepared  to  admin- 
ister the  torture  to  us,  one  by  one.  Marian  had  never  be- 
fore been  subject  to  such  public  and  violent  punishment. 
I  loved  my  sister  tenderly,  and  besought  our  'tormentors 
to  spare  her.  I  offered  to  take  double  punishment  on  my- 
self. I  told  him  I  knew  her  mistress  would  be  angry,  if 
it  came  to  her  knowledge.  They  could  not,  they  said ; 
the  orders  of  our  master  were  peremptory,  and  they  should 
exempt  none.  The  only  privilege  I  could  get  was,  tha^ 
she  should  be  last, — a  dreadful  one  for  the  tender,  sympa- 
thetic Marian.  I  had  a  sort  of  hope  against  hope,  that 
something  might  happen  to  save  her.  Who  could  tell  our 
anguish?  Oh  ye  who  coldly  speculate  on  the  thousand 
horrors  of  our  state — ye  statesmen,  clergymen,  newspa- 
per editors,  and  laymen  who  are  in  the  war  against  us, — 
could  you  but  experience  the  woes  of  that  one  night  of 
slavery  :  the  groans,  shrieks,  lashes,  blood  and  quivering 
pieces  of  flesh  strewing  the  ground.  Could  ye  have  seen 
me  after  I  had  received  my  bitter  portion,  my  shirt  clotted 
with  blood,  my  wounded,  trembling  arms  encircling  my 
poor  sister,  whose  turn  came  next ;  could  ye,  would  ye 
array  yourselves  against  God  and  the  poor  slaves  ?  Oh  ! 


50 

my  sainted  mother,  dicTst  them  know  then  the  anguish 
of  thy  children  ?  All  had  received  their  punishment  but 
Marian  ;  and  now  the  ruffians  coolly  prepared  to  sub- 
mit the  chaste  and  tender  form  of  my  innocent  sister  to 
the  cruel  lash.  Sybil  and  two  or  three  free  women  were 
at  the  meeting,  but  Marian  happened  to  be  the  only  female 
slave  at  the  meeting  that  night.  She  had  already  suffered 
more  than  her  own  personal  sufferings  would  have  been 
to  a  soul  like  her's,  in  what  she  had  endured  for  her  com- 
panions. At  the .  time  when  my  punishment  had  com- 
menced, the  poor  girl  fainted.  I  made  signs  to  them  to 
attend  to  her. 

"  The  lash  will  bring  her  to  her  senses,"  said  the 
brutes.  But  she  now  stood  clinging  to  me  with  a  despe- 
rate grasp.  The  minions  of  the  overseer  approached  us  ; 
she  shrieked  at  their  first  rude,  contaminating  touch.  I 
became  perfectly  mad.  I  presented  myself  before  her- — 

"  Over  my  dead  body  alone,"  said  I,  "  you  reach  my 
sister." 

They  commenced  a  sharp  struggle  with  me  ;  but  just  at 
that  critical  moment,  Jasmyn  rushed  in,  breathless  and 
trembling  with  excitement.  He  extended  a  paper  to  the 
overseer,  a  paper  signed  both  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Livingston, 
requiring  that  Marian  should  be  pardoned,  and  returned 
to  them.  It  seemed  to  me  that  the  agonies  of  death  were 
changed  to  the  joys  of  Paradise  within  me  !  Jasmyn  was 
sent  to  conduct  Marian  home — happy  lot  for  him,  which 
he  would  not  have  enjoyed,  had  not  Master  Sedley  been 
fortunately  absent  I  was  not  permitted  to  follow  her,  but 
ordered  home  another  way.  But  I  saw  Jasmyn  take  her 
in  his  arms,  for  she  was  entirely  exhausted,  and  go  with 


51 

Ix3r  through  the  fields,  as  if  she  were  a  bird.  Jasmyn  told 
me  afterward,  how  this  happy  issue  was  brought  about ; 
it  was  in  this  way  :  As  soon  as  Sybil  recovered  from  the 
shock  which  had  been  given  her,  when  the  meeting  was 
broken  up,  her  first  thought  was  heart-felt  thankfulness 
that  Jasmyn  had  not  been  allowed  to  join  us  that  evening. 
Her  second  thought  was,  how  to  rescue  Marian.  She 
would  have  been  glad  to  save  all,  but  she  could  not.  She 
did  not  deliberate  long,  but  hurried  down  to  the  great 
house.  They  had  not  yet  retired  for  the  night.  Jasmyn 
was  removing  the  dishes  from  the  supper-table,  when  he 
was  told  that  his  grandmother  waited,  in  haste  to  see  him. 
He  hurried  to  her,  as  soon  as  he  could,  somewhat  alarmed. 

"  What  has  sent  you  here  so  late,  grandmother  ?"  said 
he,  as  she  stood  at  the  door. 

"  Because,"  said  she,  "  they  have  broken  up  our  meet- 
ing, and  driven  poor  Marian  and  all  the  rest  up  to  that  hor- 
rid slaughter-house.  If  you  can  do  any  thing  to  save  her, 
do  it  I  think  if  mistress  knows  it,  she  may  prevent  it 
now,  if  it  is  not  too  late."  Jasmyn  knew  that  his  master 
and  mistress  had  retired  into  a  back  parlor  where,  usually, 
they  remained  an  hour  or  two  after  supper,  discoursing  on 
family  matters,  and  making  domestic  arrangements  for  the 
next  day.  He  knew  they  never  permitted  any  one  to  dis- 
turb them  at  that  time,  and  he  felt,  in  some  measure,  like 
Esther,  when  about  to  go  in  to  the  king.  But  though  Jas- 
myn was,  in  general,  tirnid,  he  had  great  courage  in  ex- 
tremity, his  timidity  not  being  the  result  of  cowardice,  but 
of  sensibility.  His  was  a  tender,  not  a  mean  soul.  He 
went  up  to  the  door  of  the  parlor,  and  knocked  gently. 
Mr.  Livingston  rose  from  the  couch  on  which  he  was  re- 


52 

clining,  saying,  as  he  went  towards  the  door,  "  who  can 
this  person  be,  who  intrudes  upon  us  in  this  way."  On 
opening  the  door,  he  exclaimed,  in  a  tone  of  anger  and 
surprise  : 

"  Fellow,  who  sent  you  here  ?" 

"  Master,"  said  Jasmyn,  bowing  low,  "  there  has  been 
a  prayer-meeting  at  Sybil's  and  they  overstaid  their  time, 
and  the  overseer  came  and  drove  them  all  off  to  be  flog- 
ged." 

"Well,  well,  what  of  all  that?  "  said  Mr.  Livingston. 

"  Why,  sir,  grandmother  has  been  up,  for  she  said  she 
did  not  believe  Missis  meant  that  Marian  should  be  whipt 
with  the  rest." 

"  Oh  !  she  must  suffer  with  the  rest,"  said  Mr.  Livings- 
ton, "  my  orders  were  that  it  should  be  so." 

"  I  know  Marian  ought  to  be  punished,"  said  Madam 
Livingston,  "  but  I  prefer,  Mr.  Livingston,  to  manage  her 
myself.  Marian  is  my  waiting-maid,  I  cannot  do  without 
her  services,  especially  to-morrow,  for  I  am  engaged  to  a 
dinner  party,  you  know,  and  she  will  not  be  fit  to  touch 
me.  Write  an  order  for  her  pardon,  if  you  please,  Mr. 
Livingston." 

Mr.  Livingston,  as  usual,  yielded  to  his  lady,  for  he  well 
knew  there  would  be  little  peace  for  him  if  he  did  not ; 
and  perhaps,  slave-holder  as  he  was,  and  towards  his  un- 
happy colored  offspring  without  natural  affection,  there 
might  have  been,  just  at  that  time,  some  yearning  ever 
his  own  daughter  !  Jasmyn  felt  so  strong  a  wish  that  the 
pardon  should  be  general,  that  slave  as  he  was,  he  could 
not  help  saying,  as  his  master  gave  him  the  order,  "  Can- 
not good  master  pardon  all,  if  they  never  do  so  any  more.' 


53 

"  No,"  thundered  out  his  master,  "  and  if  you  presume 
to  ask  anything  more,  you  shall  be  chastised  yourself.  Go. 
execute  our  orders,  promptly." 

Away  went  Jasmyn  glad  of  what  he  had  gained,  and 
sorry  that  he  could  do  no  more  ;  arriving  as  we  have  heard 
only  in  time  to  save  Marian.  On  reaching  home  myself, 
I  went  to  my  young  master's  room,  and  as  he  had  not  yet 
returned,  I  hurried  to  my  own  sorry  couch,  sore  enough 
in  body,  but  glad  in  mind.  Jasmyn  stole  in  to  see  me  be- 
fore he  went  to  bed.  I  had  hardly  lain  down  after  bath- 
ing my  bleeding  wounds  with  God's  cure-all,  and  looking 
up  to  him  for  mercy,  when  he  came  in. 

"  All  is  still,"  said  he,  "  Marian  charged  me  to  see  you 
before  1  went  to  sleep.  Gibby,  honey,  she  felt  lighter 
than  a  bird  to  me,  when  I  brought  her  home.  Mistress 
ordered  her  up  stairs  ;  I  heard  her  scolding  her  very  hard, 
and  it  made  me  feel  like  death.  Now  tell  me  Gibby,  can 
I  do  anything  for  you,  my  poor  fellow  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  but  tell  me  what  Madam  said  to  my  sister." 

"  1  heard  her  say,  for  one  thing,  that  as  a  punishment, 
she  should  never  go  to  meeting  to  Sybil's  again  ;  but  mis- 
sis don't  know  that  Marian  can  have  a  good  meeting  all 
by  herself.  She  has  got  a  nice  little  meeting-house  in  her 
own  heart,  God  bless  her.  No  overseer  can  drive  her  out 
of  that." 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  "  and  Christ  for  priest,  and  good  thoughts- 
for  company." 

"  You  know,"  said  Jasmyn,  "  lean  make  verses  ;  some- 
times I  think  in  verse  ;  and  these  lines  flowed  through  my 
mind,  as  we  came  home.  I  never  felt  so  much  joy  and 

sorrow  at  once,  Gibby." 
5* 


54 


"  I  have  thee  safely  in  my  arms, 

Snatched  from  the  tyrants,  cruel  j 
The  scourge  shall  not  profane  thy  charms, 

My  bosom's  precious  jewel ! 
This  moment  that  I  have  thee  thus* 
Though  from  such  horror  fleeing, 
I  feel  not  Slavery's  burning  curse, 

I  know  another  being. 
And  though  for  our  dear,  suffering  friends, 

My  heart  with  thine  is  bleeding, 
Yet  love  o'er  every  thought  ascends, 
With  light,  and  power  exceeding. 
The  present,  fills  me  while  I  feel 
Thy  breath  upon  me  glowing ; 
And  bless  the  moon-beams  that  reveal 

Those  eyes  with  tears  o'erflowing. 
From  pity's  tears,  oh  !  gentle  maid, 

Thine  eyes  new  lustre  borrow  ; 
Have  ever  love  and  grief  displayed, 

So  beautiful  a  sorrow. 
Now  let  the  tyrant  use  his  sway — 

The  sweetness  of  this  minute, 
No  after-anguish  takes  away, 

It  hath  such  Heaven  within  it. 
Ah  !  see  ye  stars,  her  raven  locks 

Upon  my  bosom  streaming  ; 
And  that  large,  tearful  eye,  that  mocks 

Your  dewy  evening,  beaming. 
Oh  !  know  you  not,  she  is  all  mine, 

As  ye  look  down  so  sweetly  ? 
Loving  to  see  two  suffering  hearts, 

For  once,  blest  so  completely  ; 
For  once,  defying  all  that  fate, 
In  after  hours  pursuing, 


55 

And  all  that  tyranny  and  hate 

Can  do  to  work  their  ruin. 
Eternal  stars  !  by  your  still  light, 

On  God's  grand  altar  shining, 
O  witness  ye  the  love  we  plight, 

Till  life's  last  breath  resigning." 

I  listened  to  this  song,  which  to  me  seemed  good,  be- 
cause perhaps  I  loved  Jasmyn  so  well,  for  our  feelings  to- 
wards the  living  poet,  influence  us  in  our  acceptance  of 
his  poetry.  But  my  rnind  was  pre-occupied  with  one  idea, 
the  thought  of  liberty.  Sometimes,  looking  over  the 
wrongs  of  my  whole  race,  I  prayed  God  to  make  me  a 
Joshua  to  them  ;  sometimes  the  domestic  evils  of  slavery, 
gathering  into  a  storm  over  my  sister's  head  and  my  own,  * 
occupied  my  mind.  Then  the  fevered,  wounded  state  of 
my  body,  often  would  bring  back  my  thoughts  to  myself. 
Better  for  us,  if  our  masters  would  take  the  scourges 
themselves,  than  leave  us  to  the  brutality  of  their  over- 
seers, usually  the  basest  of  mankind. 


CHAPTER  X. 

In  which  the  narrator  resumes  the  story. 

The  upper  house  looked  with  indifference  and  contempt, 
even  upon  the  superior  part  of  their  chattels.  A  Doug- 
lass, a  Placide,  a  Brown,  might  have  grown  up  in  their 
midst,  unawares  to  them.  Habitual  sovereignty  had  caus- 
ed them  to  look  down  upon  their  vassals,  as  creatures  as 
far  removed  from  their  equal  sympathy,  as  the  Siberian 
serf  from  the  tyrant  majesty  of  Russia.  They  gave  a  slave 
no  right  to  love,  or  hate,  or  think  like  themselves.  They 
regarded  all  attempts  of  the  kind,  as  subjects  of  unfeeling 
sport,  or  cause  of  wanton  chastisement.  Under  this  illu- 
sion, the  native  sentiment  and  poetry  of  Jasmyn  was  a 
theme  of  ridicule.  The  common  mass  of  Americans  are 
contented  to  take  their  ideas  of  all  the  slaves  from  bur- 
lesque representations  cf  that  class  whom  they  have  sunk, 
by  their  debasing  system  of  slavery,  into  a  state  of  deg- 
radation infinitely  more  vulgar  than  their  natural,  savage 
condition.  It  is  a  most  infamous  and  base  cruelty,  which 
first  crushes  and  brutalizes  a  race,  and  then  makes  unfeel- 
ing sport  out  of  that  inferiority  and  debasement  to  which 
our  own  cruelty  and  injustice  has  reduced  our  victims. 
Let  the  modern  Philistines  beware  of  the  African  Samp- 
son, whom  they  have  shorn  of  his  strength  and  blinded, 
and  are  making  sport  of.  His  hands  are  upon  the  two 
pillars  of  their  strong  house  ! 


57 

The  morning  after  the  scenes  related  in  the  last  chap- 
ter, just  as  Marian  finished  dressing  his  mother's  hair, 
Sedley,  who  had  just  returned,  entered  his  mother's  dress- 
ing-room, his  constant  haunt,  when  he  thought  he  should 
see  Marian.  A  few  moments  afterward,  Marian  left  the 
room,  saying  she  had  to  finish  making  up  some  lace  in 
the  laundry,  and  got  excused  for  that  purpose. 

"  Where  in  the  world,"  said  Sedley;  "  did  that  wench 
get  her  exquisite  taste  ?  -  Your  head  is  better  dressed  than 
if  you  had  employed  a  Parisian  Barber." 

"  I  know  it,''  said  his  mother,  "  it  is  just  so  with  every 
tiling  she  does  ;  but  I  came  very  near  losing  her  services 
to-day." 

"  How,"  inquired  Sedley. 

"  Why,  she  narrowly  escaped  a  severe  whipping.  1 
gave  her  permission  to  go  down  to  Sybil's,  to  meeting,  for, 
as  she  never  asks  to  go  to  dances,  and  sets  up  for  a  saint, 
I  occasionally  allow  her  this  privilege.  So  she  went,  and 
I  thought  no  more  of  it ;  but,  when  your  father  and  my- 
self, after  supper,  had  retired,  as  ususl,  into  the  back  par- 
lor, at  quite  a  late  hour,  who  should  present  himself  but 
Jasmyn  ;  his  grandmother  had  come  and  told  him  that  her 
meeting  was  broken  up,  and  Marian  and  the  rest  had  gone 
to  receive  a  whipping.  I  knew  she  would  not  be  fit  for 
me  to-day,  after  being  in  the  hands  of  our  overseer,  and  I 
could  not  spare  her  at  all,  on  account  of  the  dinner  party. 
We  despatched  Jasmyn  with  an  order  for  her  pardon,  and 
to  have  her  sent  home." 

"  And  how  did  she  get  home  ?  "  said  Sedley,  his  color 
changing. 

"  Jasmyn  returned  with  her,"  said  his  mother. 


58 

u  I  am  glad  Marian  escaped,"  said  Sedley ;  "  she  is  too 
pretty  to  be  whipt :  but  what  an  insufferable,  impudent 
fellow  that  Jasmyn  is.  I  wonder  he  should  have  presu- 
med to  intrude  upon  you.  His  grandmother  should  have 
done  her  own  errands.  What  right  has  he  to  meddle  with 
the  management  of  the  slaves  ?  I  wish  my  father  had 
sent  some  other  servant  with  his  message,  and  had  him 
well  thrashed  for  his  presumption." 

"  Oh,  I  do  not  think,"  said  his  mother,  "  that  Jasmyn 
meant  to  be  insolent." 

"  I  do,"  said  Sedley,  rising  and  walking  about  the  room 
in  increasing  agitation.  "  You  do  not  know  the  smooth 
rascal  as  thoroughly  as  I  do.  1  wish  father  would  sell  him. 
The  sugar  plantations  in  the  far  south,  are  the  places  to 
bring  down  such  a  fellow  as  he  is." 

"  I  think,"  observed  Mrs.  Livingston,  "  that  old  Sybil  has 
collected  nearly  money  enough  to  buy  his  freedom." 

"  My  dear  mother,"  said  Sedley,  "  if  you  are  wise,  you 
will  induce  father  not  to  sell  him,  unless  Sybil  will  send 
him  to  Liberia,  for  I  can  tell  you  a  little  secret,  I  have  dis- 
covered. If  you  let  Jasmyn  become  free  and  remain 
about  here,  you  will  soon  lose  your  handy  dressing-maid." 

"  What  do  you  say,"  said  his  mother,  surprised  at  this 
intelligence  ;  "  surely,  Jasmyn  would  not  presume  to  think 
of  anything  of  that  sort,  with  my  girl." 

"  He  does  indeed,"  said  Sedley,  "  they  are  very  sly 
about  it,  but  no  doubt  they  are  lovers." 

"  It  may  be  so,"  said  Mrs.  Livingston,  "  I  notice  the  ne- 
groes so  little  except  as  servants.  But  if  the  boy  has  any 
idea  of  courting  Marian,  I  will  put  a  stop  to  that  very 
speedily." 


59 

Marian  now  entered  the  room,  and  Sedley  soon  left,  de- 
termined, if  possible,  to  have  Jasmyn  sold  ;  if  he  could  not 
do  that,  he  hoped  at  least,  to  have  him,  if  made  free,  sent 
to  Liberia. 

Mr.  Livingston's  library  and  his  study  were  two  apart- 
ments, connected  together  by  folding  doors.  Mr.  Living- 
ston was  reading  in  his  study.  In  the  adjoining  room — the 
folding  doors  being  nearly  closed — sat  Arthur  St.  Vallery, 
looking  over  some  music,  with  a  very  pretty,  genteel 
young  lady,  and  apparently  quite  interested.  He  per- 
ceived Sedley  as  he  entered  the  room.  There  was  ever 
this  sort  of  agreeable  association  with  Sedley.  His  ap- 
pearance was  as  instinctively  associated  with  evil,  as  the 
lowering  evening  heavens  with  an  approaching  storm. 

"  Father,"  said  he,  seating  himself,  without  observing 
that  any  one  was  in  the  adjoining  room,  "  I  should  not 
have  intruded  upon  you,  but  I  have  something  of  some 
importance  to  say  to  you. 

"  And  what  is  that,  my  son  " 

•'  I  understand  Sybil  has  nearly  completed  the  sum  you 
ask  for  the  boy  Jasmyn." 

"  Very  well,  sir,  and  what  is  that  to  you  ?  said  Mr. 
Livingston,  (a  little  piqued  as  he  frequently  was  with  his 
son's  officiousness  in  business  matters,)  "  Gibby  is  your 
body  servant,  not  Jasmyn." 

"  I  know  it,  father,  but  if  you  will  permit  me  to  advise 
you,  from  several  circumstances  that  have  come  to  my 
knowledge,  I  would  advise  you  not  to  sell  Jasmyn  his  lib- 
erty at  all,  except  on  condition  that  he  leaves  at  once  for 
Liberia.  But  perhaps  it  would  be  as  well  to  sell  him  pri- 


60 

vately,  and  tell  Sybil  he  had  run  away ;  these  free  ne- 
groes are  very  dangerous  neighbors." 

"  I  know  it,  my  son,  but  Jasmyn  seems  a  civil  boy. 
What  have  you  against  him  ?" 

"  Father,"  said  Sadley,  drawing  his  chair  closer,  and 
speaking  in  a  confidential  tone  of  voice,  "  I  think  there 
will  be  trouble  between  him  and  my  mother's  waiting 
maid.  If  Jasmyn  gets  his  freedom  I  think  he  will  try  to 
seduce  her  away,  and  there  will  be  trouble  with  them  if 
he  remains  here.  1  cannot  endure  to  have  my  mother  an- 
noyed. You  know  she  values  the  girl  very  much  as  a 
waiting  maid.  It  is  her  wish  that  something  should  be 
done." 

"  But  madam  must  not  be  too  particular  about  retaining 
her ;  she  shall  have  her  as  long  as  possible,  but  my  affairs 
may  require  that  I  should  sell  Marian.  She  is  a  magnifi- 
cent creature,  and  would  command  a  splendid  sum  in 
New  Orleans. 

"  But  if  you  do  not  get  rid  of  Jasmyn,  you  are  liable  to 
lose  her  at  any  time." 

"  Ah  yes,  I  will  send  for  Sybil  and  talk  with  her.  I 
shall  not  sell  Jasmyn  away,  for  I  have  promised  Sybil,  and 
will  not  disappoint  her  if  she  will  colonize  him. 

Mr.  Livingston  then  resumed  his  studies,  and  Sedley 
left  the  room,  very  well  satisfied  with  the  mischief  he  had 
done. 

Mr.  Livingston,  like  many  other  opulent  gentlemen  of 
his  sort,  kept  open  house,  and  lived  in  a  kind  of  lordly 
hospitality,  and  made  expensive  journeys  in  the  traveling 
season.  When  the  negro  woman  received  Mungo  Park, 
there  was  true  hospitality  ;  but  very  doubtful  is  the  luxu- 


61 

rious  sociality  of  the  oppressor's  board,  which  is  called 
hospitality.  None  can  be  generous  before  he  is  just ;  but 
the  time  hastens,  when  in  Bible  phrase  '  the  churl  will  no 
more  be  called  bountiful.'  Dives  was  doubtless  lauded  for 
his  hospitality,  by  those  he  feasted,  while  Lazarus  laid  at 
his  gate,  full  of  sores. 


CHAPTER  XL 

A  short  chapter  from  Gibby. 

I,  Gibby,  was  nailing  up  some  vines  over  the  study  win- 
dows and  elsewhere,  and  was  in  a  position  to  see  and  hear 
what  was  going  on  that  day  that  Master  Sedley  made  his 
grand  move  to  get  rid  of  Jasmyn.  I  overheard  all  that 
the  arch-enemy  prompted  Sedley  to  say  .1  could  see  him, 
though  he  did  not  observe  me,  as  the  blinds  were  partly 
closed.  I  could  see  Master  Arthur  also,  and  his  manoeu- 
vres ;  he  was  pretending  to  be  still  critically  and  silently 
examining  some  new  music  of  Miss  Woodville's ;  but  he 
was  really  listening  to  Master  Sedley  from  the  time  he  en- 
tered the  room.  Tired  of  this  game,  at  last,  I  heard  him 
say,  "  I  shall  do  better  with  this,  if  we  pause  awhile,  Miss 
Woodville,"  and  with  these  words  spoken  in  an  under  tone> 
as  not  wishing  to  disturb  his  uncle  and  cousin,  in  conver- 
sation, he  threw  himself  upon  the  lounge  just  where  the 
door  was  slightly  ajar,  and  heard  all  Sedley  said.  Two 
facts  Master  Arthur  ascertained  in  this  manner  ;  first,  that 
Jasmyn  and  Marian  were  lovers  ;  next  that  Marian  might 
be  sold.  While  he  was  digesting  this  unwelcome  news, 
and  entirely  forgetful  of  Miss  Woodville,  who  had  taken 
up  a  book,  and  was  reading,  Jasmyn  entered  and  handed 
Mr.  Livingston  a  letter.  That  gentleman  read  the  letter, 
rose  and  paced  the  room  several  times,  and  then  went  up 
stairs  to  his  lady's  room3  who  was  now  in  full  array  for  the 


63 

dinnerparty."  "My  dear,"  said  he,  "your  brother-in-law, 
Dr.  Woodville,  will  be  here  this  evening,  preach  to-mor- 
row, and  he  and  Lucina  will  leave  Tuesday  ;  and  he  very 
politely  hints  about  my  debts  to  him.  I  am  very  sorry, 
but  what  pray  can  I  do  ?" 

"  Why,  you  need  not  be  at  a  loss,  Mr.  Livingston.  1 
know  Dr.  Woodville  perfectly  well ;  if  we  can  arrange  a 
match  between  Arthur  and  Lucina,  no  doubt  he  will  be 
induced  to  relinquish  a  part  or  the  whole  of  his  claim." 

"  They  are  now  together  in  the  study,"  said  Mr.  Liv- 
ingston. I  will  send  Lucina  up  to  you  and  converse  with 
Arthur  myself  on  the  subject." 

The  reader  will  please  to  recollect  that  I  was  nailing  up 
vines  about  the  house,  and  when  I  saw  Mr.  Livingston 
leave  the  room  with  that  letter,  I  felt  moved  upon,  as  the 
phrase  is,  to  see  the  play  out,  and  moved  my  ladder  round 
near  the  window  of  Madam  Livingston's  room,  where  1 
overheard  the  conversation  between  my  master  and  mis- 
tress. Don't  start,  good  friends,  you  never  had  a  sister" 
honor  at  stake  as  I  had. 

When  Mr.  Livingston  left  the  room,  I  softly  removed 
the  ladder  again  to  its  old  position.  After  Mr.  Livingston 
had  sent  his  niece  to  his  wife,  he  began  with  Arthur. 

"  A  very  fine  girl  that,  Arthur.  How  remarkably  love- 
ly she  looks  to-day." 

"Yes,  a  very  fine  girl,  re-echoed  Arthur;  a  very 
charming  singer,  too,  and  plays  as  well  as  she  sings. 

"  I  sometimes  wish  she  and  Scdlcy  were  not  so  nearly 
related,  but  you  are  more  fortunate  in  that  respect.  I 
know  no  where  so  desirable  a  match.  Lucina  unites 
beauty,  fortune,  and  accomplishments.  Now  is  the  only 


64 

time  to  secure  the  prize,  for  she  is  going  to  England  im- 
mediately. Her  rich  aunt,  whose  heiress  she  is,  will  in- 
troduce her  there  into  society,  and  then  she  is  gone.  She 
has  not  come  out  yet.  I  do  not  know  that  you  could  win 
her,  but  if  you  could  your  joint  fortunes  would  make  you 
at  once  a  millionaire.  Now  tell  me  candidly,  Arthur, 
have  you  not  thought  seriously  of  the  beautiful  young 
heiress  ?" 

"  It  would  be  presumption  in  any  one  like  me.  Surely 
uncle,  Miss  Woodville  has  too  much  sense  to  think  of  a 
person  esteemed  by  his  own  father  so  deficient  in  under- 
standing, that  he  must  be  accounted  an  infant  until  thirty." 

"  My  dear  Arthur,  whatever  were  yoor  father's  ideas, 
I,  your  guardian,  should  consider  it  so  decided  a  proof  of 
the  highest  judgment,  should  you  offer  yourself  to  Miss 
Woodville,  that  I  should  at  once  relinquish  my  trust  to 
you." 

"Very  good,  Uncle  ;  but  are  you  sure  I  should  not 
have  a  decided  refusal  ?"  said  Arthur. 

"  I  think  not.  Blushing  apparitions  and  downcast  eyes 
whenever  your  name  is  mentioned,  are  auspicious  tokens 
for  you." 

"  Indeed,  you  flatter  me ;  but  it  is  an  honor  I  never 
dreamed  of.  I  must  be  allowed  time  to  recover  from,  this 
delightful  surprise  which  has  overtaken  me,  so  that  I  may 
address  the  beautiful  Miss  Woodville  with  some  self-pos- 
session." 

"  You  must  be  prompt.  Her  father  will  be  here  to-mor- 
row night,  and  they  will  embark  for  England  in  a  week." 

"  How  can  you  doubt  my  readiness,  uncle  ?" 

"  I  am  then  to  consider  the  matter  arranged?" 


65 

"  If  the  lady  is  propitious."  . 

The  uncle  and  nephew  then  parted — the  one  well  plea- 
sed, the  other  hemmed  in  and  perplexed.  After  pacing 
about  the  room  several  times,  Arthur  went  to  his  room 
and  wrote  to  his  friend.  I  was  afterwards  a  short  time  in 
the  service  of  Lewis,  and  this  letter  fell  into  my  hands, 
along  with  several  files  of  letters  given  me,  to  burn  up 
out  of  the  way.  The  letter  was  as  follows  : 

"  My  Dear  Louis, — I  am  in  great  perplexity.  I  wish 
you  were  with  me,  to  help  me  out  of  this  entanglement,  by 
your  masterly  genius,  so  equal  to  every  emergency.  My 
plan  was  to  satisfy  my  aunt  and  uncle,  by  paying  those 
attentions  to  Miss  Woodville,  which  may  mean  nothing  or 
everything,  and  thus  gain  time  to  concert  some  plan  of 
escape.  A  true  actor  may  be  led  almost  to  believe  him- 
self the  character  he  personates  ;  and  I  had  become  in- 
terested in  the  excitement  of  my  own  performances,  just 
as  a  partizan  gets  up  an  interest  in  himself,  for  the  candi- 
date of  his  party,  be  it  Cass,  Webster,  Fillmore  or  Belze- 
bub.  It  is  a  pleasant  stimulus,  while  it  is  on,  but  there 
is  often  a  terrible  re-action.  But  where  is  Marian  ?  you 
will  say,  for  by  the  very  last  mail,  went  flying,  a  letter 
of  which  a  quadroon  beauty  was  the  burthen.  I  often 
wonder  how  those  hard  headed  old  fellows  one  meets  with, 
ever  brought  their  conscience  under  such  capital  regula- 
tion, that  it  never  seems  to  trouble  them,  do  what  they 
will.  My  conscience  is  a  very  inconvenient  ingredient  in 
my  composition.  It  gives  me  a  world  of  trouble.  I  rose 
very  early  the  morning  after  I  wrote  you  last,  to  go  on  a 
rural  excursion  some  distance.  The  people  in  the  house 

were  not  up.     As  I  passed  a  grove  near  the  house,  I  heard 
6* 


66 

a  low  voice.  It  was  Marian.  She  heard  me  as  I  ap» 
preached,  and  rose  from  her  knees,  for  she  had  been  at  her 
devotions.  Her  face  was  bathed  in  tears.  A  rosy,  dewy 
blush  suffused  her  face,  as  she  saw  me.  She  hurried  on 
to  the  house,  and  I  stood  looking  after  her,  as  one  dumb  ; 
but  there  was  such  an  immediate  revelation  of  innocence 
about  her,  as  she  turned  her  face  from  God  to  me,  that  I 
felt  condemned.  Such  thoughts  as  these  crossed  me, — 
Has  slavery  any  more  assimilation  with  her  high  and  holy 
nature,  than  the  Prince  of  Darkness  with  the  Son  of  God  ! 
She  is  Purity's  self;  I  must  not  pollute  her.  I  rode  away 
with  these  thoughts,  but  I  went  into  a  company  of  jolly 
fellows,  and  by  night,  '  the  native  hue  of  resolution  was 
no  longer  sicklied  over '  with  the  pale  cast  of  my  morn- 
ing's thought.  My  conscience  was  much  more  manage- 
able. However,  there  was  this  effect,  I  devoted  myself  to 
Lucina.  She  is  worldly  enough  not  to  tax  the  heart  with 
great  emotions.  After  all,  I  had  not  the  least  intention  of 
deciding  upon  any  thing,  when,  in  comes  Uncle  Livings- 
ton, whom  the  angry  destinies  and  my  father,  have  made 
Fate  to  me,  and  plays  me  up  to  the  grand  finale  of  an  of- 
fer. I  knew  if  I  flatly  refused,  I  was  as  good  as  disinher- 
ited, and  that  Uncle  Livingston,  who  is  an  extremely  de- 
cided person,  would  bear  no  evasion.  I  did  make  an  at- 
tempt to  get  off  by  affecting  too  mnch  humility  for  the 
honor,  but  it  would  not  pass.  1  was  obliged  to  submit,  es- 
pecially as  the  attack  came  upon  me  when  I  was  entirely 
off  my  guard ;  my  mind  being  painfully  affected,  at  the 
instant,  by  something  that  had  recalled  my  thoughts  to  Ma- 
rian. Miss  Woodville  and  myself  had.  that  forenoon, 
been  tete-a-tete  in  the  library — my  uncle  reading  in  an  ad- 


67 

joining  room.  The  folding  doors  were  nearly  closed,  but 
not  entirely.  Presently  entered  that  promising  develop- 
ment of  depravity,  cousin  Sedley.  He  made  some  disclos- 
ures and  proposals  to  his  father,  which  as  the  poet  hath  it, 
"  froze  the.  genial  current  of  my  soul."  The  bare  men- 
tion of  Marian's  name  magnetized  me  at  once  into  atten- 
tion ;  so  that,  while  pretending  to  listen  to  Miss  Woodville, 
I  was  really  on  the  alert  to  hear  all  that  young  serpent  was 
saying. 

I  learned,  to  my  surprise,  that  Marian  has  a  lover  of  her 
own  race,  and  rather  a  dangerous  specimen  of  that  race, 
and  moreover  a  descendant  of  that  Sybil  whom  I  had 
made  my  confidant,  and  hoped  to  make  my  accomplice. 
I  had  the  happiness,  also,  to  learn  that  my  uncle  in  the 
plentitude  of  his  philanthropy,  has  a  plan  in  reserve,  of 
selling  Marian  at  the  New  Orleans  market.  Another  im- 
portant piece  of  information  which  I  gained  was,  that  Jas- 
myn,  Marian's  lover,  would  soon  have  his  freedom  pur- 
chased by  his  grandmother.  Sedley,  who  is  as  wise  as  a 
fox,  saw  that  Jasmyn  being  free,  Marian  would  not  long 
tarry  behind  ;  and,  with  characteristic  magnanimity,  cool- 
ly proposed  to  his  father,  either  to  sell  the  boy  privately, 
contrary  to  his  agreement  with  old  Sybil,  or  only  to  sell 
him  his  freedom  on  condition  of  his  being  immediately 
transported  to  Liberia. 

This  is  an  age  of  progress  of  all  sorts  ;  and  uncle,  who 
is  a  thought  behind  the  ripeness  of  the  nineteenth  century, 
declined  his  son's  superlative  scoundrelism. 

This  evening  Dr.  Woodville  arrives  ;  to-morrow  I  shall, 
by  force,  have  to  hear  two  sermons  from  him.  He  is  es- 
teemed a  great  preacher.  Homer  says,  "  a  man,  to  be  a 


68 

good  poet,  must  be  a  good  man."  Aristotle  has  it,  that 
we  must  believe  the  orator  a  good  man,  or  his  oratory  has 
no  power.  Now  I  know  this  Dr.  Woodville  thoroughly. 
Why,  his  very  method  of  teaching  the  gospel,  is  founded 
on  worldly  maxims.  Then  his  whole  study  is  to  appear  to 
be  what  he  is  not,  very  smooth  and  specious  and  all  the 
while  a  keen  eye  for  his  own  interest.  He  is  quite  a  con- 
trast to  that  honest  heroic  old  Abdiel,  whom  you  and  I 
helped  to  escort  across  the  line  last  year.  You  recollect 
we  and  a  few  other  celloge  boys  joined  the  row  in  order 
to  restrain  the  mob  a  little.  He  seemed  to  be  in  earnest, 
and,  though  as  a  Southerner  I  repudiate  his  sentiments,  I 
respect  his  courage.  But  Dr.  Woodville's  preaching  is  to 
me  a  perfect  farce.  To  hear  him  preach  self-denial,  hu- 
mility, and  all  that,  and  then  see  him  draw  on  his  per- 
fumed gloves,  ascend  his  rich  carriage,  go  home  and  smack 
his  lips  over  his  racy  old  wine,  and  choice  segars,  I  tell 
you  it  is  rich.  I  have  heard  him  preach  a  sermon  on  re- 
pentance to  an  aroused  audience,  and  a  novice  would 
think  him  oppressed  with  the  care  of  souls,  and  I  have 
seen  him  return  and  feast  as  if  he  had  no  soul.  I  have 
known  him  to  preach  against  covetousness,  in  a  missionary 
sermon,  so  that,  perhaps,  many  a  poor  soul  felt  condemned, 
if  they  did  not  quite  empty  their  pockets  ;  and  the  next 
day  sell  the  mother  from  her  nursing  babe,  for  the  sake  of 
a  profitable  speculation  !  This  is  that  Dr.  Woodville.  A 
goodly  father-in-law  have  I  in  prospect.  But  here  comes 
uncle,  and  this  sheet  must  for  the  present  go  into  my 
secretary." 


CHAPTER  XII. 

In  which  the  narrator  again  takes  up  the  story. 

Sabbath  afternoon  when  the  great  coach  rolled  away  to 
church,  Marian  having  obtained  leave  of  her  mistress  to 
take  a  walk,  gladly  saw  the  vehicle  move  off.  Marian 
looked  up  to  the  soft  blue  sky  that  seemed  to  love  her,  and 
said, 

"  Oh  !  Thou  who  seest  me,  be  with  me  where  1  go  this 
afternoon,  to  that  haunted  glen,  and  nothing  can  make  me 
afraid." 

Then  she  went  on  praying  inwardly,  till  she  came  to 
Sybil's  cottage.  Looking  in  she  saw  no  one,  and  turned 
off  toward  the  glen.  The  long,  rich  rays  of  the  mellow 
sunlight  streamed  through  the  trees  that  overshadowed  the 
path  ;  the  wild  bee  murmured  among  the  flowers ;  God 
seemed  to  rest  in  his  brooding  love  over  all  nature.  There 
was  a  sweet  heavenly  holy  languor  in  the  hour,  and  Ma, 
rian  felt  the  full  charm  of  it.  No  one  enjoys  nature  like 
those  who  commune  with  God  through  his  works.  If  Jas- 
myn  were  only  here,  she  sighed ;  but  I  must  not  think  too 
much  of  him.  Everything  is  keeping  Sabbath,  thought 
Marian,  as  she  stepped  within  the  bounds  of  the  haunted 
glen.  The  very  stream  that  foil  so  tumultuously  in  the 
waterfall,  was  gathered  here  into  a  lake  of  crystal  clear- 
ness, that  mirrored  the  thick  branches  of  the  venerable 
trees  on  its  bank.  Oh  !  it  was  a  rare  sight  to  see  our 
still,  spiritual  Marian  in  this  spot,  The  richly  sombre 


70    ' 

shadows  of  the  trees  that  skirted  the  old  place  ;  the  warm 
light  of  the  summer  afternoon,  softened  in  golden  tinted 
shadings  into  a  mysterious  glowing  gloom  ;  the  glen  that 
opened  down  from  the  Lake,  and  grew  more  and  more 
shadowy,  till  lost  among  the  hills,  made  it  indeed  look  like 
the  haunt  of  angels  !  And  there  was  Marian,  looking 
like  the  very  genius  of  the  place,  her  countenance  full 
of  religious  beauty.  Down  she  wended  her  way,  and 
came  into  the  depths  of  the  glen,  Seating  herself  at  length 
on  a  low,  broad  rock  beside  a  small  waterfall.  After  a 
few  moments  she  took  from  her  bosom  a  little  hymn  book, 
and  sang  a  few  verses  ;  but  she  soon  felt  that  she  could 
sing  no  more  ;  a  sudden  seriousness  took  possession  of  her 
soul  so  deeply  that  it  oppressed  her,  and  yet  she  could  not 
come  out  of  it ;  but  now  her  heart  beat  quicker,  and  her 
cheek  grew  pale,  for  there  came,  as  from  the  inward  thick- 
ness of  the  glen,  a  sweet,  solemn  voice.  It  was  her 
mother's  voice,  but  incomparably  more  melodious  than  in 
life,  and  it  chaunted  in  a  low,  plaintive,  but  not  despairing, 
tone — 

"  What  wilt  thou  for  good  or  ill , 
Thine,  or  the  Almighty's  will." 

Marian  trembled,  not  now  for  fear  of  the  voice,  for  the 
veiy  sound  of  it  had  given  happiness  to  her  soul,  but  there 
was  a  struggle  in  her  heart,  for  she  knew  if  she  consented 
to  endure,  she  should  be  called  to  endurance.  She  bow- 
ed her  head  upon  her  lap  ;  how  could  she,  who  had  al- 
ready endured  so  much,  how  could  she  bear  more  !*  All 
the  harrassments,  vexations  and  trials  of  her  lot  pressed 

*  This  struggle  is  not  fiction.  I  knew  a  person  who  passed 
through  a  similar  ordeal. 


71 

upon  her  mind,  and  she  was  ready  to  say,  let  me  die,  when 
the  words,  Thy  Saviour,  uttered  with  the  same  dulcet 
plaintiveness  struck  to  her  soul.  The  Spirit  triumphed  in 
that  moment  over  the  frail  flesh,  and  she  stood  erect ;  her 
eyes  raised  to  Heaven,  flashing  through  her  tears,  her 
hands  uplifted,  she  exclaimed  triumphantly,  "  I  will  what 
my  Saviour  wills,  He  was  made  perfect  through  suffer- 
ings." At  that  moment  a  voice  came  rushing  down  the 
glen— 

"  Twice  and  thrice  through  the  Furnace  past, 
Happy  and  Free,  and  saved  at  last." 

All  ceased,  Marian  seemed  to  arouse  as  front)  a  dream, 
but  deeply  felt  that  something  new  in  her  destiny,  was  be- 
fore her.  She  gazed  up  the  glen,  but  nothing  bright  was 
there,  save  the  golden  glimmer  of  the  sunshine  on  the 
heavy  old  branches.  She  heard  nothing  but  the  low  lull 
of  the  little  waterfall,  and  the  song  of  the  wood-bird.  "  The 
vision  has  passed,"  said  she,  and  fell  on  her  knees,  and 
prayed.  She  rose  refreshed,  and  was  gathering  her  shawl 
about  her,  when  she  heard  a  foot-step,  a  human  foot-step 
near ;  she  was  startled,  but  her  fears  were  soon  allayed, 
by  the  appearance  of  her  mother's  former  minister,  and 
friend,  Jonas  Freeman.  Jonas  Freeman  was  a  true  Qua- 
ker. His  peculiar  dress,  of  spotless  drab,  well  became 
his  figure,  tall  and  ample,  but  not  corpulent.  None  could 
resist  the  idea  of  protecting  goodness,  which  associated  it- 
self with  his  majestic  and  vsnerable  appearance. 

"  Ah  !  Marian,"  said  he,  as  he  bent  his  large,  mild  eyes 
upon  her.  "  I  rejoice  to  meet  thee  here  ;  and  why  it  was, 
1  know  now,  that  I  felt  drawn  to  take  the  glen,  in  my  way 


72 

home.     I  have  not  seen  thee  since  my  return  to  this  coun- 
try.    How  is  thy  good  mother  ?  " 

Marian  answered,  with  solemnity,  but  no  sadness, 
"  mother  is  dead,  but  not  dead  and  gone.  I  have  heard 
her  voice,  this  very  afternoon." 

"  And  is  thy  mother  dead,  indeed  ?  "  said  Jonas.  I 
grieve  that  I  shall  no  more  hear  or  see  that  choice  woman." 

"  I  have  heard  her  sweet  voice,  this  very  afternoon," 
repeated  Marian. 

"  Thou  art  a  good  girl,"  said  Jonas,  "  and  God  has  giv- 
en thee  a  pleasant  dream  of  thy  mother,  here  in  this  quiet 
place." 

"  It  was  no  dream,  friend  Jones." 

"  Well,  Marian,  I  cannot  tell  how  deep  a  communion 
God  may  vouchsafe  thee,  with  those  who  are  gone  :  but  ^ 
would  not  have  thee  too  fond  of  a  visionary  faith,  lest  it 
should  seize  on  thy  fancy,  and  weaken  thy  attachment  to 
the  legitimate  object  of  thy  faith  ;  and  that  the  ideal,  ro- 
mantic spiritual,  should  supersede  or  alloy  the  real,  and 
heavenly  spiritual.  But  how  is  it  with  thee  and  Gibby  ? 
are  you  well  used  ?  and  do  things  go  with  you  as  they 
used  to  ?  " 

"  Gibby  will  see  you,  and  tell  you,"  said  Marian,  "  I 
have  new  and  heavy  troubles,  the  Lord  knows  I  have,  but 
some-how  I  have  so  long  told  them  only  to  God,  that  when 
I  go  to  speak  of  them  to  any  one  else,  I  can  only  ciy  and 
tremble." 

"  Do  not  grieve  thyself,  my  daughter,"  said  Jonas,  "  I 
believe  thou  wilt  see  better  days  ;  I  suppose  thou  sorely 
missest  thy  mother,  but '  there  is  a  friend  that  sticketh  clo- 
ser than  a  brother  ;'  thou  knowest,  Marian," 


73 

"  Yes,  truly,"  said  Marian,  who  found  a  strange  plea- 
sure in  weeping  before  a  true  friend,  "  and  I  believe  he 
will  be  with  me  always.  He  who  died  for  me,  will  sure- 
ly do  all  the  rest." 

"  Farewell,  Marian,  said  Jonas  ;  "  tell  Gibby  to  come  to 

me,  if  he  gets  into  any  trouble,  and  try  to  be  as  near  like 
thy  good  mother  as  thou  canst  be." 

Marian  watched  him  out  of  sight,  as  she  would  a  belov- 
ed father,  and  then  hurried  home-wards,  lest  haply  she 
might  have  been  too  long  away. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 
A  short  chapter  from  Gilbert. 

I  had,  indeed,  while  nailing  up  the  vines,  on  Saturday 
morning,  heard  all  my  young  master  had  suggested  to  his 
father.  To  my  utter  consternation,  I  had  also  learned  Mr. 
Livingston's  plan  of  selling  my  sister  for  the  New  Orleans 
market.  But  why  should  I  think*  it  strange  that  he  should 
sell  his  own  lovely  daughter  ?  he  had  done  similar  acts 
frequently.  Every  day,  parents  immolate  their  children 
to  the  great  Moloch  of  slavery.  Truly,  the  slave-holders 
tire  in  the  condition  of  those  of  whom  Paul  speaks,  in  the 
first  chapter  of  Romans,  "  without  natural  affection." 
Yet  he  had  a  sort  of  honor  ;  for  instance,  he  would  not, 
even  for  his  son,  break  an  agreement  with  one  whom  he 
believed  in  the  lowest  form  of  humanity.  The  Sabbath 
had  passed.  The  very  reverend  Doctor  still  lingered,  and 
a  party  was  now  to  be  given  in  his  honor,  at  a  neighbor- 
ing gentleman's  seat.  The  whole  upper  house  were  going. 
The  entertainer  was  celebrated  for  the  sumptuous  taste  of 
his  parties,  and  much  pleasure  was  expected.  The  morn- 
ing sun  rose  as  fair  as  if  there  had  been  no  slavery  or 
death  in  the  world.  But  we  were  daily  reminded  of  our 
lot  at  Livingston  lawn,  I  was  going  to  my  young  master's 
room,  when  poor  Jasmyn  met  me  with  a  sad  countenance. 
What  is  the  matter,  Jasmyn,  said  I,  in  an  under  tone. 

"Master  Sedley  told  me  last  evening,"  said  he,  "that  he 
meant  to  have  me  severely  punished." 


75 

"  I  asked  him  what  I  had  done.  He  said  he  would  tell 
me  when  he  punished  me,  and  that  I  might  expect  it  to- 
night." 

"Run  away,"  said  I. 

"I  would,"  said  he,  "were  not  grandmother  about  ready 
to  buy  my  freedom,  and  that  would  perhaps  cut  off  my 
chance  if  I  had  not  the  good  success  to  get  clear  off.  No, 
Gilbert,  I  must  look  to  God.  May  he  help  me."  With 

these  words  we  parted. 

****** 

There  was  a  sort  of  being  about  the  house  and  planta* 
tion  who  was  called  Pete.  He  was  one  of  those  strange 
creatures  who  are  over-witted  in  some  respects,  and  under- 
witted  in  others.  To  the  whites,  he  was  a  subject  of  much 
mirth.  Pete  was  of  the  lowest  order  of  plantation  slaves; 
short,  thick,  and  of  a  grotesque  appearance.  He  was  not 
a  regular  field  hand,  but  ran  on  errands,  and  did  other 
light  jobs.  I  was  employed  about  the  garden  after  having 
assisted  at  Master  Sedley's  morning  toilet,  attending  t<> 
some  favorite  plants  belonging  to  him,  when  this  Pete  came 
up  scratching  his  head. 

"Massa  Arthur,"  said  he,  "wants  to  see  you  down  by 
do  grove.  De  ole  fellow  stirring  up  a  muss,  I  spose." 

I  immediatly  went  down.     There  was    Master  Arthur! 

"  Gilbert,"  said  he,  "  I  suppose  you  heard  what  Sedley 
said,  Saturday  morning,  as  well  as  I.  " 

"  Yes,  sir. " 

"  What  do  you  think  of  it  ?  " 

"  I  think, "  said  I,  "  but  I  must  not  tell  my  thoughts.  " 

"  Why,  you  know,  Gib,  Sedley  wants  Jasmyn  out  of  the 
way,  because  he  has  designs  upon  your  sister  himself;  now 


76 

what  is  to  be  done,  Gibby,  what  can  I  do  for  you  ?  you 
know  I  am  disposed  to  assist  you.  All  the  while  we  were 
talking  I  could  see  Pete  skulking  round  among  the  trees, 
at  hearing  distance,  trying  to  pick  up  something  ;  for 
when  any  mischief  was  brewing,  Pete  was  in  his  element, 
and  had  as  many  tricks  as  a  fox,  till  he  got  together  the 
heads  of  the  matter. 

"  Master  Arthur,  "  said  I,  "  I  think  if  Mr.  Livingston 
knew  this  conduct  of  his  son  towards  my  sister,  he  would 
prevent  it.  " 

"  How  can  you  think  so, "  said  Master  Arthur,  "  when 
you  know  uncle  and  aunt  would  give  their  spoiled  son  the 
universe  if  they  could  ?" 

"  It  may  look  strange  to  you,  sir,  but  you  had  really 
better  mention  this  to  your  uncle,  only  tell  him  young 
Master  loves  my  sister,  and  I  know  he  will  prevent  it.  " 

"  You  are  mistaken,  "  said  he,  and  left  me  a  little  vexed 
that  I  gave  him  no  better  expedient.  Pete  threw  himself 
in  his  way  as  he  went  towards  the  house,  and  I  heard  him 
say  in  his  muttering  way,  "  Tis  a  wise  son  dat  knows  his 
own  dad,  and  a  wiser  broder  to  know  his  own  sis.  " 

"  What  are  you  muttering  ?  "  said  Arthur. 

Pete  repeated  his  aphorism. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  said  Arthur. 

"  Only  that  the  wind  blows  strong  from  the  east,  and 
there. will  be  a  storm.  " 

"  Good,  Pete, "  said  Arthur,  "  here  is  a  piece  of  silver 
for  you  if  you  will  tell  the  truth.  " 

"  They  say  de  trute  is  as  cheap  as  a  lie  ;  but  it  isn't  this 
time,  for  Massa  will  only  give  me  a  lick  for  a  lie,  but  here 


77 

is  good  money  for  de  trute.     Well,    Massa   Arthur,  how 
many  daughters  Massa  Livy  lost  ?  " 

"  Three,  Pete  ;    what  in  nature  are  you  driving  at  ?  " 
"  Three  ?  count  again  ;  one  more  almost  lost,  half  sold." 
"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,  Pete,  "    said  Arthur.  " 
"  Chew  upon  it,  Massa ;  may-be   you  will   tass  out  de 
meaning.     Poor  Pete  knows,  but  don't  want  his  wool  pull- 
ed for  telling." 

I  saw  by  Master  Arthur's  looks  that  he  did  soon  tas 
out  the  meaning.  He  rejoined  me  on  the  garden  steps. 

".I  know  now,  what  you  meant,  "  said  he,  to  me.  Pete 
has  blown  the  whole  business,  and  I  was  blind  not  to  sec  it 
before.  "  I  then  told  him  of  Sedlcy's  design  to  punish 
Jasmyn.  He  assured  me  he  would  use  all  his  influence  to 
prevent  it.  I  knew  why  Master  Arthur  was  so  much  in- 
terested, and  was  determined  to  oppose  his  plans.  Yet  I 
was  glad  to  avail  myself  of  his  good  will  to  save  Jasmyn, 
for  I  feared  he  would  be  chastised  cruelly. 


7* 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

From  the  narrator. 

To  those  who  see  aright,  the  russet  garb  of  honesty  is  bet- 
ter than  the  woven  gold  and  purple  of  guilty  wealth.  And 
•  however  beautiful  by  rules  of  art,  may  be  the  stately  man- 
sion of  the  oppressor,  to  the  true  vision  it  looks  but  deso- 
lately fair,  the  prison  of  a  condemned  soul.  Who  has  not 
felt  a  weight  upon  their  heart,  looking  at  the  lordly  man- 
sions of  the  guilty  great,  which  has  been  relieved  by  the 
sight  of  some  humble  dwelling,  smiling  out  through  the 
trees,  where  lived  some  holy  laborer,  in  the  open  sight  of 
God  and  Heaven. 

The  seat  of  the  Charlton  family,  where  the  entertain- 
ment was  to  be  given,  to  which  our  family  were  invited, 
was  to  those  who  look  only  at  the  outside,  a  magnificent 
place.  But  how  did  the  slaves  look  upon  it,  as  they  went 
or  returned  from  their  daily  toil,  and  saw  its  stateliness  at 
a  distance  ?  To  them  it  was  the  manifestation  of  their 
master's  power  over  them,  the  seat  of  rule.  "  Wo  to  them 
who  build  their  houses  by  wrong,  who  use  their  neighbor's 
service  without  wages."  Little  place  had  such  thoughts, 
in  the  hearts  of  the  party  that  gathered  at  the  Charltons. 
They  were  not  like  one  of  old,  who  said,  "  Let  me  not 
cat  of  their  dainties."  Although  given  in  honor  of  a  dis- 
tinguished clergyman,  yet  as  he  was  largely  and  fashiona- 
bly connected,  the  assemblage  was  a  gay  one,  and  with  part 


79 

of  them,  a  convivial  feast.  The  dinner  came  off  at  early 
evening,  and  after  dinner,  the  glass  circulated  freely 
among  the  gentlemen.  Both  of  our  young  gentlemen  re- 
mained ;  but  Mr.  Livingston  retired  as  soon  as  the  dessert 
was  removed,  having  letters  of  business  to  write  at  home. 
Arthur  observed  Sedley  stealing  away,  after  he  had  done 
sufficient  honor  to  the  sparkling  champagne.  It  was  an 
unusual  self-denial,  he  knew,  for  Sedley  to  leave  so  soon 
these  elegant  convivialities.  And  in  truth,  the  self-styled 
chivalry  do  honor  to  their  boasted  descent  from  those  grace- 
ful, yet  graceless  children  of  the  evil-one,  the  Cavaliers, 
and  the  poor  descendants  of  the  Round-heads,  ape  them, 
and  toil  after  them  in  vain,  being  too  much  in  the  honest 
bustle  and  rough  business  of  life,  to  come  near  their  lazy 
ease  and  elegance.  What  maud's  the  name  ?  they  really 
are  the  nobility  of  the  land,  and  the  rest  but  vassals,  per- 
force, for  Mammon's  sake.  Yes,  it  needed  a  strong  im- 
pulse to  draw  Sedley  from  such  a  scene.  Arthur,  whose 
suspicions  were  now  fully  awake,  at  once  apprehended  his 
motive  ;  and  as  soon  as  he  could,  excused  himself,  also. 
Having  his  eye  upon  Sedley,  he  had  been  unusually  spar- 
ing in  his  use  of  the  wine,  but  Sedley  was  free  in  his  liba- 
tions. Arthur  hurried  home  determined  to  expose  Sedley 
to  his  father,  and  prevent  both  Jasmyn's  chastisement,  and 
Sedley's  farther  intercourse  with  Marian.  .As  he  drew 
near  the  house,  he  saw  a  light  in  his  Aunt's  dressing-room. 
Through  the  waving  window  curtains,  he  saw  Sedley  in 
earnest  conversation  with  Marian,  who  seemed  to  be  weep- 
ing in  great  grief.  He  listened  and  overheard  him  say 
"  The  paddle  is  ready  and  everything  prepared  ;  but  one 
word  from  you,  will  save  him  this  chastisement;  come,  will 


80 

you  consent."  Arthur  could  hear  no  more,  but  ran  into 
the  house,  and  went  in  haste  to  the  study  where  his  uncle 
was.  But  he  knew  he  must  be  cautious,  to  ward  off  sus- 
picion from  himself.  "  Uncle,"  said  he,  "  will  you  send 
a  carriage  for  Dr.  Woodville  and  the  ladies.  I  had  to  leave." 

"  And  where  is  Sedlcy  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Livingston." 

"  Here  at  home,  very  strangely,  in  Madam's  dressing- 
room,  with  Marian." 

"With  Marian,"  said  Mr.  Livingston,  in  a  tone  of  sud- 
den, painful  surprise  !  "  what  has  lie  to  do  there  with  her 
alone." 

"  Ah,"  said  Arthur,  with  a  careless,  jocular  laugh ; 
"  did  you  not  understand  Sedley's  hurry  to  get  Jasmyn  off 
to  Liberia  ?  Jasmyn  loves  Marian,  and  will,  no  doubt, 
buy  Marian's  freedom,  eventually,  and  marry  her.  Scd- 
ley  loves  her  too  well  for  this."  He  said  no  more. 

Mr.  Livingston  rose  at  once  from  the  table,  and  exclaim- 
ing "  Is  it  possible,"  left  the  room  in  haste.  Ascending 
the  stairs,  he  heard  Sedley  say,  "  you  are  so  obstinate, 
and  foolish,  I  swear  I  will  have  Jasmyn  sold  to-morrow, 
for  the  far  south."  At  these  words,  Mr.  Livingston  hastily 
entered  the  room,  "  Sedley,"  said  he,  sternly,  "  leave  this 
room  instantly,  and  never  dare  meddle  with  your  mother's 
servant  again,  or  I  will  disown  you."  Sedley,  headstrong 
with  wine,  swore  he  would  do  as  he  pleased.  This  excit- 
ed his  father,  who  forcibly  ejected  him  from  the  room,  and 
locking  the  door,  passed  on  to  his  own  apartment,  and 
sent  Marian  to  her  own  room.  Meantime,  Sedley,  per- 
fectly mad  with  wrath  and  wine,  rushed  down  stairs.  In 
his  way,  he  met  Pete,  who  muttered,  "  Massa  Sedley  beat 
vie  bush,  Massa  Arthur  catch  de  bird."  Hearing  this,  he 


*  81 

rushed  on,  as  if  by  evil  fiends  driven,  to  the  library.  On 
entering  the  room,  at  sight  of  Arthur,  he  poured  out  a  vol- 
ley of  oaths  and  curses,  and  drawing  his  bowie  knife,  made 
a  sudden  pass  at  Arthur,  and  wounded  him.  Arthur,  how- 
ever, succeeded  in  disarming  him  :  but  he  seized  a  double- 
barreled  gun,  which  was  loaded.  A  scuffle  ensued,  in 
which  the  gun  went  off,  and  the  whole  charge  entered  the 
breast  of  the  unfortunate  Sedley,  who  fell  dead  on  the  floor, 
a  mangled  corpse  ;  while  Arthur,  faint  from  loss  of  blood, 
and  the  horrible  struggle,  swooned,  and  fell  beside  him. 
The  dreadful  concussion  caused  by  the  gun,  brought  Mr. 
Livingston  and  the  whole  household,  at  once.  What  could 
exceed  the  consternation  and  dismay  of  the  unhappy  father, 
when  he  entered  the  room.  There  lay  his  only  son,  the 
centre  of  his  proudest  hopes,  and  strongest  affections,  a 
blackened  corpse  ;  and  there  his  nephew,  his  arm  wouud- 
ed,  and  in  a  death-like  swoon.  Blood  and  brains  strewed 
the  magnificent  carpet,  and  shattered  wainscot.  The  man, 
who  had  ruthlessly  violated,  all  his  life,  nature's  tenderest 
ties,  among  his  wretched  slaves,  now  stood  aghast,  over- 
whelmed, but  not  instructed,  by  this  fearful  retribution. 
Soon,  he  alternately  raved  like  a  madman,  or  kissed  the 
lifeless  remains  of  his  son.  Recovering  himself  a  little, 
he  motioned  to  some  slaves  to  take  Arthur  away.  "  Take 
that  man,"  he  cried,  "  to  his  own  room,  till  he  is  able  to 
give  some  account  of  this  bloody  work.  And  run  some  of 
you  for  Dr.  Morris."  As  Arthur  was  borne  away,  a  car- 
riage drove  up  to  the  door,  and  the  voices  of  Mrs.  Livings- 
ton and  Lucina,  gay  and  laughing,  were  heard  in  the  hall. 
"  Do  not  let  her  come  in  here,  for  Heaven's  sake,''  cried 
Mr.  Livingston.  But  it  was  too  late  ;  they  entered  the 


82 

room.  A  wild,  long  scream  of  anguish  came  from  the 
wretched  mother,  succeeded  by  a  fainting  fit.  She  was 
borne  away  from  that  dreadful  scene,  by  her  husband  and 
Miss  Woodville.  Dr.  Woodville  was  not  present ;  he  had 
been  invited  to  remain  with  the  Charlton's  till  the  next  day. 
Master  Arthur's  wound  was  not  severe.  It  was  dressed  by 
a  skilful  surgeon,  and  about  midnight,  after  he  bad-slept,  he 
was  able  to  be  present,  at  the  coroner's  inquest.  He  stated 
that  he  was  in  the  library  reading,  when  the  deceased  en- 
tered in  a  state  of  intoxication  ;  that  he  drew  his  bowie 
knife  and  rushing  upon  him,  swore  he  would  kill  him  ; 
that  he  (Arthur)  disarmed  him,  after  receiving  a  slight 
wound  ;  that  the  deceased  then  seized  the  gun,  and  he 
strove  to  get  it  from  him,  and,  in  the  struggle  which  en- 
sued, the  gun  went  ofF;  that  he  knew  no  more  after  that. 
After  giving  his  evidence,  he  was  again  led  to  his  chamber. 

But  where  was  Marian  all  this  time,  the  innocent  occasion 
of  all  this  mischief  ?  Marian  came  with  the  rest  of  the 
household,  when  the  report  of  the  gun  gathered  them  all 
to  the  fatal  spot. 

As  she  beheld  that  sight,  she  forgot  her  own  deep  wrongs, 
and  wept  that  such  an  unprepared  soul  had  passed  away 
to  the  bar  of  God,  Yet  her  commiseration  was  mingled 
with  awe  at  Heaven's  justice,  and  providentiiil  interference 
for  her  rescue.  Jasmyn  came  and  whispered  to  her  to  re- 
tire, for,  said  he,  they  will  blame  you  for  this ;  upon  that 
suggestion,  Marian  left  the  room,  but  when  her  mistress 
was  carried  to  her  chamber,  she  knew  she  was  expected  to 
attend  her.  She  went  in,  therefore,  and  used  every  means 
to  facilitate  her  mistress'  recovery. 

The  house  was  filled  with  friends  before  morning  ;    tlio 


whole  neighborhood  being  alarmed.  Early  in  the  morn- 
ing, Mrs.  Livingston  ordered  some  coffee,  which  Pete 
brought  up.  After  taking  it,  being  alone  with  her  hus- 
band, she  requested  him,  now  she  was  more  composed,  to 
tell  her  what  had  led  to  the  sad  catastrophe  of  the  preced- 
ing evening.  He  frankly  laid  open  to  her  the  whole  chain 
of  circumstances,  which  he  believed  had  led  to  the  melan- 
choly event.  The  wretched,  but  guilty  mother,  who  knew 
that  her  criminal  indulgence  of  her  son's  wickedness  had 
laid  the  foundation  of  this  calamitous  catastrophe,  instead 
of  taking  to  heart  the  lesson  this  appalling  event  contained, 
began  to  upbraid  poor  Marian,  and  the  whole  violence  of 
her  feelings  spent  itself  upon  her,  and  Arthur.  "  Oh,  " 
said  she,  "  I  will  never,  never  see  that  artful,  unprincipled 
wench  again  !  My  poor  boy  was  not  to  blarne  !  she  was 
the  cause  of  all  this.  I  never  shall  rest,  husband,  any,  till 
you  sell  her  to  the  New  Orleans  traders.  " 

"  Be  patient,  my  dear,  "  said  her  husband;  "  all  shall 
be  as  you  wish.  As  for  Arthur,  I  feel  as  badly  as  you  do. 
I  mean  to  give  him  up  his  estate,  and  send  him  out  of  my 
sight. " 

"  Do  get  rid  of  Jasmyn  too,  dear  husband;  I  never  can 
bear  to  see  any  one  that  has  been  concerned  in  this  matter. 
Order  Marian  to  keep  her  room  until  you  sell  her.  " 

"  What  shall  be  done  with  Gibby,  "  said  Mr.  Livingston. 
"  I  think  I  had  better  sell  him  to  Arthur. " 

"  I  do  not  care  where  you  sell  him,  "  said  this  discon- 
solate mother,  "  so  that  I  see  him  no  more.  Ever  since 
my  poor  Sedley  was  an  infant,  Gib  has  been  his  body  ser- 
vant. He  will  never  get  a  master  to  manage  him  so  com- 
pletely as  Sedley  did.  " 


"  Gibby  is  a  tolerably  good  faithful  boy,  "  said  Mr. 
Livingston. 

"  If  he  is,  "  said  Madam,  "  it  is  entirely  owing  to  Sed- 
ley.  He  was  naturally  proud,  but  Sedley  conquered  him. 
If  he  bad  lived,  we  sbould  have  had  our  negroes  under  bet- 
ter discipline  than  they  are  now.  I  remember  when  he  tied 
up  Gib  with  his  own  little  hands,  when  he  was  but  a  child, 
and  chastised  him.  He  would  leave  off,  wipe  the  perspira- 
tion off  his  little  rosy  face,  and  begin  again.  He  really 
seemed  to  make  it  a  matter  of  duty,  and  Gib  never  dared 
to  disobey  him  since.  Oh,  my  poor  boy,  what  a  loss  he  is 
to  you,  and  me,  and  his  country.  Don't  you  think  if  he 
had  lived  he  might  have  equalled  Mr.  Calhoun  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  doubt  it,  "  said  her  husband. 

Some  one  then  entered  the  room  to  take  orders  about 
the  funeral,  which  threw  Mrs.  Livingston  into  hysterics, 
and  put  an  end  to  the  conversation.  Arthur  received,  in 
the  course  of  the  forenoon,  the  following  letter: — "  How- 
ever we  may  acquit  you  of  any  designed  attack  on  our 
dear  .Sedley,  neither  myself  nor  Mrs.  Livingston  can  see 
you  again,  at  present.  I  have  engaged  a  lawyer  to  come 
after  the  funeral,  who  will  arrange  all  the  business  between 
us.  I  mean  to  give  your  property  into  your  hands  for  a 
certain  compensation,  and  of  course  you  will  then  leave  a 
place,  which,  if  you  have  any  sensibility,  must  be  very 
gloomy  to  you.  Of  course  Miss  Woodville  will,  after  this, 
entertain  no  thoughts  of  a  marriage  connexion  with  you.  I 
also  wish  to  sell  Gibby  to  you  as  a  servant.  Immediately 
after  the  funeral  of  my  lamented  Sedley,  every  thing  relat- 
ing to  these  matters  will  be  arranged ;  meanwhile  Gibby 
can  attend  you.  "  H.  LIVINGSTON. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

Gilbert  takes  up  the  story. 

I  was  soon  made  acquainted  with  the  new  plans.     Pete, 
who  seemed  almost  endowed  with  ubiquity,  at  such  times, 
had  managed  to  overhear  the    bed-chamber  conversation. 
He  was,  as  the  reader  knows,  sent  up  with  coffee  for  Mad- 
am when  it  commenced,  and,  when  he  left  the  room  man- 
aged to  squeeze  himself  into  a  little  jog  near  the  chamber, 
risking,  in    order  to  gratify  his  curiosity,  the  chance  of  a 
drubbing.     The  next  pleasure  to  him  after  hearing  news, 
was  to  let  it  out.     While  I   was  preparing  something    for 
Master  Arthur,  Pete  came  round  me,  brimful. 
"  Guess  Tommy  will  have  a  new  Massa. " 
"  What  for,  Pete, "  said  I,  in  his  own  manner. 
"  Wonder  if  Massa  Artur   lick   so  hard    as    de    dead 
one." 

"  Think  he  will  have  a  chance  to  lick  me  ?  "  said  I. 
"  Guess  so,  and  not  long  first  eider.  " 
"  What  think  they  will  do  with  Marian  ?  " 
"  How  should  Pete  know  ?    Guess  more  putting  up  hands 
to  pray  than  ever.  " 

"  For  why,  Pete  ?   come,  tell  me,  here's  a  cent." 
"  What  for  place  New  Orleans  ?    what  sort  of  a  white 
nigger  is  a  slave  driver  ?      Oh,  Jeffery,  "  said  he,  sudden- 
ly turning  the  conversation,  "  how  they  are  mourning  for 

young  Massa.     Poor  Pete's  head    miss    his  hard   tumps 
8 


86 

any  way,  he  won't  knock  it  into  jelly  this  day  ;  but    I  go 

cry  with  de  rest,  woful  enough.  " 

******* 

I  now  knew  exactly  my  fate,  and  the  impending  doom 
of  my  sister.  The  extreme  confusion  of  the  house,  and 
Master  Arthur's  temporary  confinement  to  his  room,  made 
this  a  most  favorable  opportunity  to  escape.  But  another 
incident  occurred  that  morning  which  looked  still  more  fa- 
vorable. Old  Sybil  came  up  to  .condole  with  her  former 
master  and  mistress.  After  some  other  conversation,  Sybil, 
who  knew  pretty  well  Mr.  Livingston's  embarassments, 
ventured  to  say: — >•"  I  spose  just  at  this  time,  Master,  a  lit- 
tle money  w.ould  n't  come  amiss,  and  1  got  all  the  money 
together  to  buy  Jasmyn.  "  Sybil  felt  a  little  in  haste  from 
some  fearful  intimations  of  Jasmyn's  danger  that  had 
reached  her. 

44  Come  after  the  funeral,  "  said  Mr.  Livingston. 

"  No,  no, "  said  his  wife  ;  "  1  must  send  to  town  for 
mourning,  and  must  have  money  ;  besides,  Jasmyn  I  can 
see  no  more.  Do,  dear  husband,  let  Sybil  take  him.  Dr. 
Woodville  can  arrange  it  all  for  you.  " 

Jasmyn  attended  his  happy  old  grandmother  home  a 
free  man  ;  yet  feeling  himself  but  half  free,  while  we  were 
slaves. 

Marian  told  me  she  watched  him  from  the  window  ;  that 
he  looked  up.,  and  held  up  his  free  papers. 

"  Thank  God,"  said  Marian,  "  he  is  free  at  any  rate, 
whatever  be  my  fate," 

I  sent  up,  late  in  the  afternoon,  two  slices  of  bread  for 
Marian's  supper  ;  between  them  I  put  these  lines:  "  To» 


87 

morrow  is  the  day  of  the  funeral ;  now  is  our  time  ;  have 

ready  a  small  bundle  and  be  at  the  window  at  dark. 

******* 

It  proved  a  dark,  rainy  evening,  favorable  for  our  pur- 
pose. Marian  stood  by  the  window  for  some  moments, 
her  heart  fluttering,  and  the  little  bundle  in  her  hand.  Oh, 
what  ages  of  agony  and  suspense  in  that  short  space.  None 
but  a  slave  about  to  escape,  can  tell  what  she  then  experi- 
enced. 

"  Great  God !  "  said  she,  "  help  me,  or  I  shall  die.  " — 
Presently  sho  saw,  through  the  darkness,  the  figure  of  a 
man  coming  towards  the  place.  He  stopped  under  the 
window,  and  hemmed  slightly.  She  knew  the  voice  and 
looked  out.  It  was  me.  I  instantly  placed  a  ladder  against 
the  window.  Marian  lightly  descended,  and  I,  hiding  the 
ladder  behind  some  trees,  led  Marian  a  little  way  through 
the  wood  into  the  road  before  I  spoke  a  word.  I  then  told 
her  that  I  had  asked  Master  Arthur's  leave  to  go  a  short 
distance  on  an  errand.  'He  is  not  half  so  suspicious  as 
poor  Master  Sedley  was, '  said  I,  '  and  he  is  confined  to 
his  chamber,  and  I  do  not  believe  will  think  of  me  again  to- 
night ;  more  especially  as  he  has  some  new  books  to  read. 
We  went  on  until  we  reached  Sybil's  cottage.  Looking 
in  to  see  who  was  there,  we  saw  Jasmyn  alone — Sybil  be- 
jng  engaged  at  the  great  house.  I  tapped  at  the  door,  and^ 
when  Jasmyn  opened  it,  and  saw  us,  he  was  ready  to  leap 
for  joy.  'Be  calm,'  said  I,  'we  arc  not  all  free  ;  Marian 
and  I  have  only  stopt  a  moment  in  our  flight  to  say  good 
bye.  If  you  want  to  know  where  we  are,  go  in  a  day  or 
two,  to  Jonas  Freeman's ;  but  not  before  that  time,  or  it 
may  breed  trouble. 


"  I  do  not  want  to  part  with  Marian  so  soon,  "  said  Jas- 
myn.  "  And  how  will  she  be  able  to  travel  all  night  in 
the  rain  ?  "  Cannot  we  conceal  her  here  for  a  couple  of 
days  ?  " 

"  No,  I  will  not  risk  her  for  an  hour,  "  said  I,  "  for  1 
know  if  any  one  was  to  come  along,  your  eyes  shine  so, 
and  you  look  so  glad,  they  would  know  by  that  she  was 
here.  So,  good  bye.  God  bless  you,  dear  Gibby,  God 
bless  you  my  dear  Marian."  And  now  Marian's  heart  was 
much  lighter  than  before.  She  had  seen  Jasinyn,  and  she 
traveled  on,  regardless  of  the  pouring  rain. 

At  length  we  came  to  the  banks  of  a  river,  which  we 
were  to  cross  in  our  way.  1  knew  where  there  were  sev- 
eral fishing  boats,  and  loosening  one,  we  stepped  in  ;  Ma- 
rian crept  under  the  cuddy,  and  I  rowed  across.  I  threw  an 
old  cloak  over  Marian,  and  she  fell  asleep.  When  she 
awoke  we  had  reached  the  shore  near  the  little  Quaker 
settlement  where  Jonas  Freeman  lived.  The  dwelling  of 
Jonas  stood  a  little  without  the  village.  It  was  built  of 
stone,  and,  like  himself,  ample,  plain  and  substantial.  The 
morning  star  now  just  appeared  above  the  horizon's  pur- 
pling edge — the  storm  was  over;  the  winds  and  waters 
were  sighing  themselves  into  rest,  when  we  drew  near  the 
truly  hospitable  mansion.  Being  long  familiar  with  the 
place,  I  went  up  around  to  the  back  part  of  the  house  and 
whistled  three  times  three — a  signal  well  understood  by 
the  master  of  the  house,  should  he  be  awake.  To  my  re- 
lief, a  window  was  soon  thrown  up,  and  the  well-known, 
welcome  voice  of  Friend  Jonas  enquired,  '  who  is  there  ?' 
It  is  Gilbert,  said  I,  Very  quickly  afterwards,  the  door 
was  opened  by  our  friend  ;  we  were  welcomed  most  kind- 


89 

ly,  and  the  door  was  carefully  re-fastened.  The  wife  of 
Jonas  was  dead.  His  family  consisted  of  himself,  his  only 
child,  a  daughter,  and  an  elderly  female  domestic,  Dorcas 
Hart.  "  Dorcas  and  Aimse,"  said  he,  "  are  not  yet 
up,  and  I  do  not  like  to  disturb  them  yet,  for  they  both 
worked  hard  yesterday  ;  but  I  will  have  a  good  fire  for  you 
presently  ;  you  must  be  chilly,  out  in  the  rain  so  all  night. 
Friend  Marian,  step  into  that  room,  and  go  to  the  ward- 
robe ;  remove  thy  wet  clothing,  and  put  on  whatever  thou 
canst  find  there  suitable  for  thee.  I  will  get  thy  brother 
some  raiment  of  mine."  Marian  gladly  obeyed  Jonas, 
and  soon  returned  comfortably  clad.  The  warmth  of  the 
fire  soon  made  us  forget  the  chilling  storm  of  the  night. 
Jonas  drew  out  a  shining  table  of  black  oak,  and  spread 
over  it  a  snow-white  cloth ;  then  placed  thereon  dishes 
that  sparkled  with  cleanly  clearness — knives  as  bright  as  a 
dollar  fresh  from  the  mint,  and  spoons  it  was  a  pleasure  to 
eat  with.  Then  he  set  before  us  food  which,  though  plaint 
was  so  well  prepared,  that  it  seemed  to  us,  poor,  hungry 
travelers,  that  we  had  never  seen  such  a  feast.  The 
whitest  hominy,  the  nicest  bread,  the  sweetest  milk,  the 
richest  cheese,  and  the  most  luscious  fruit  we  had  ever 
yet  eaten. 

Dorcas  soon  came  down  stairs  with  her  new  checked 
apron,  her  small  figured  dark  print,  well  starched,  and  her 
pearl  white  neckerchief  folded  in  front.  Her  homely,  but 
cheerful  face,  expressed  the  utmost  quiet,  content  and  kind- 
liness. She  greeted  us  very  pleasantly,  and  seemed  to 
want  to  make  us  feel  her  part  of  the  welcome  ;  and  the 
welcome  of  the  domestic  is  ever  an  important  part  of  the 

family  hospitality  to  strangers.     In  a  few  moments  after 
8* 


90 

came  the  fair  Aimee, — the  charming  daughter  of  Jonas. 
Aimee  was  a  very  lovely  girl,  but  it  was  not  her  graceful 
form,  her  fine  features,  her  eyes  so  lustrous  and  soft,  nor 
yet  those  hyacinthine  and  golden  locks  that  clustered  back 
in  such  rich  burnished  waves  from  her  open  brow, — these 
alone,  were  not  what  made  Aimee  so  beautiful.  It  was 
wisdom,  dwelling  with  meekness,  and  mental  elevation,  with 
deepest  love  that  shed  around  her  that  beauty  which  the 
imagination  of  art  would  give  to  an  angel. 

"  Thou  seemest  very  much  fatigued,  "  said  she  to  Mar- 
ian. "  I  have  made  up  a  good  bed  for  thee  in  a  quiet  room, 
where  thou  may'st  feel  perfectly  safe  for  to-day,  certainly  ; 
and  father,  had'st  thou  not  better  take  Gilbert  to  his  room  ? 
our  friends  look  weary.  "  So  saying  she  took  Marian 
affectionately  by  the  hand,  and  passing  through  the  hall, 
led  the  way  up  stairs  to  a  retired  room.  Marian  was  struck 
with  the  neatness  and  comfort  of  the  apartment — such  a 
contrast  to  the  home  arrangements  of  those  who  love  to 
live  in  a  vain  show.  A  neat  white  matting,  curtains  of 
dark  muslin,  and  plain  old  fashioned  furniture  of  black  oak, 
were  the  equipments  of  a  room  which,  from  generation  to 
generation,  had  been  sacred  to  Christian  hospitality.  From 
the  large  old  fashioned  windows  you  looked  out  upon  an  in- 
spiring landscape,  now  adorned  with  new  tints  of  beauty 
by  the  morning  light.  Here  Aimee  left  Marian.  After 
giving  heartfelt  thanks  to  Him  who  had  led  her  thus  far, 
Marian  slept  on  a  better  bed  than  she  had  ever  rested  upon 
before.  So  deep  was  her  refreshing  sleep,  that  when  she 
awoke  in  the  afternoon,  she  was  much  restored,  and  was 
enjoying  that  delicious  calm  which  succeeds  a  long  unbrok- 
en sleep,  when  Aimee  entered  the  room. 


91 

"  Hast  thou  slept  well  ?  dear  Marian,  and  wilt  thou 
come  down  now,  that  we  may  see  thee  a  little  while  be- 
fore it  is  time  to  leave  ?  thou  may'st  have  heard  what  John 
Bunyan  says  of  his  pilgrims  lodging  in  a  chamber  called 
'  Peace. '  We  call  this  chamber  '  Peace,'  for  here  is 
where  many  a  wayworn  pilgrim  has  rested.  My  father  has 
been  on  a  visit  of  duty  to  England  ;  we  had  not  much 
company  while  he  was  gone,  but  now  we  shall  have  pil- 
grims. " 

So  they  came  down  stairs  into  the  sitting  room  ;  here 
was  Jonas  with  his  benignant  smile  ;  myself  much  refresh- 
ed, and  Dorcas,  with  her  clear,  calm,  motherly  face,  busied 
in  placing  on  the  table  a  substantial  and  agreeable  meal. 
It  seemed  to  do  them  all  good  to  entertain  us,  unfortunate 
ones,  with  the  most  considerate  hospitality.  After  we  had 
done  honor  to  the  good  things  so  bounteously  set  before  us, 
we  two  withdrew  into  a  parlor  with  friend  Jonas,  who  then 
laid  before  us  his  plans. 

"  To-day,  "  said  he,  "  is  the  day  of  the  funeral ;  they 
will  hardly  think  of  pursuing  thee  to-day  ;  but  to-morrow 
the  chase  will  be  up.  I  will  take  thee  and  Marian  to  the 
old  hermit.  He  will  conceal  thee  awhile  in  the  cave, 
which  is  not  on  the  track  the  pursuers  would  be  likely  to 
take  ;  and,  if  friend  Marian  does  not  object,  I  may  chance 
to  bring  Jasmyn  there.  " 

Jonas  then  had  a  light  covered  wagon  prepared.  At 
the  appointed  hour,  after  many  affectionate  parting  words, 
we  took  leave,  and  our  good  friend  drove  us  off  towards  the 
hermit's.  We  arrived  in  safety.  Entering  the  cave  wo 
found  the  old  hermit  asleep.  The  moon-beams  streaming 
down  on  his  low  bed,  discovered  to  us  a  face  and  form 


92 

which  must  have  once  been  handsome  and  noble,  but  now 
showed  advanced  age.  Jonas,  to  whom  he  seemed  well 
known,  aroused  him,  and  said  to  him — "  Paul,  1  have 
brought  thee  these  two  friends  to  be  thy  guests  for  a  day 
or  two,  and,  as  thou  hast  not  provisions  enough  for  them 
thyself,  I  have  brought  some  with  me.  "  He  then  brought 
in  from  his  wagon  plenty  of  food  ready  cooked. 

The  old  man  welcomed  us  kindly.  After  Jonas  depart- 
ed, he  prepared  for  Marian  a  bed  of  dried  leaves,  and  bade 
me  lie  down  by  his  side. 

When  the  light  of  dawn  shone  through  the  apertures  of 
the  cave,  the  hermit  and  myself  arose  and  went  to  the  wa- 
ter to  bathe  ;  and,  that  done,  we  offered  up  prayer  to  the 
Lord  of  life  and  light.  After  we  returned,  Marian  went 
to  the  stream.  She  also  bathed,  and  then  kneeling  down 
on  the  shore,  commended  herself  to  the  God  of  the  fugi- 
tive. She  arose  with  renewed  courage,  but  it  was  ready 
to  sink  away  again,  as  she  espied  two  men  muffled  in 
cloaks.  She  ran  towards  the  cave,  but  they  gained  upon 
her.  How  relieved  was  she  to  hear  from  one  of  them  the 
voice  of  Jonas. 

"  Thou  needest  not  flee  so  fast ;  here  are  none  but 
friends.  " 

She  looked  round  and  blushed  to  see  that  Jasmyn  was 
with  him.  They  now  entered  the  cave,  and  many  greet- 
ings passed  between  us.  But  there  was  a  cloud  on  the 
brow  of  the  hermit.  After  James  had  read  a  portion  of 
Scripture,  and  opened  it  to  us,  we  came  around  the  rocky 
table,  and,  after  a  pause  of  silent  thanksgiving,  enjoyed  the 
bounties  of  Providence.  How  pleasant  the  social  meal 
when  piety  and  love  sweeten  the  enjoyment,  and  exercise 


93 

;ind  bathing  prepare  the  body  to  receive  it.  Yet  we  ate 
our  bread  with  trembling,  for  we  were  fugitives.  After 
breakfast,  Jonas  said,  "  Friends,  you  will  leave  us  to-night. 
Jasmyn  wishes  to  share.your  perils  ;  and,  though  it  may 
seem  sudden,  it  is  not  without  deep  thought  that  I  advise 
my  young  friends  Jasmyn  and  Marian  to  be  married  here, 
ere  they  begin  their  journey.  "  We  all  saw  the  wisdom 
and  propriety  of  the  step  ;  '  but  where, '  said  I,  '  is  the 
Priest  ?  ' 

"  If  thou  wishest  the  Friend's  ceremony,  here  are  wit- 
nesses, "  said  Jonas;  "  and  if  thou  prefercst  the  other, 
Paul  is  a  priest.  But  we  need  not  be  in  haste  ;  we  have 
the  day  before  us.  I  want  now  to  tell  my  children  what 
I  have  done  and  heard  the  past  night.  After  leaving  you 
I  went  on  directly  to  the  place  where  Sybil  lives.  I  found 
her  concerned  lest  Jasmyn  should  be  implicated  in  your 
flight.  '  Be  assured,'  said  I,  '  if  here,  he  will  be  immedi- 
ately arrested,  so  thou  must  give  him  up  to  me  for  a  little 
while,  and  bye-and-bye  he  will  either  send  for  thee  to  a  safe 
place,  or  come  for  thee.'  '  Do  as  you  will. '  said  Sybil. 
Then  I  enquired  when  the  flight  was  discovered,  and  what 
steps  were  taken  ?  And  I  will  give  the  story  in  her  own 
words.  '  I  told  Jasmyn, '  said  she,  '  to  stay  here  and  keep 
house,  for  if  I  did  not  go  up  yonder  now,  in  the  time  of 
trouble,  it  would  be  thought  strange.  So  I  returned  to  the 
great  house  to  stay  till  after  the  funeral,  and  do  all  I  could. 
It  was  a  desperate  rainy  evening,  but  I  went  on.  Some- 
thing kept  saying, — there  will  be  some  missing  to-night — 
till  the  way.  But  such  a  fuss  and  stir  as  there  was  when 
I  got  there  ;  so  many  relations,  friends  and  neighbors  com- 
ing and  going,  there  was  no  time  for  any  one  of  them  to 


94 

think  about  run-aways,  thank  God.  They  got  th3  mansion 
in  fine  order  by  noon  next  day,  and  a  great  feast  for  the 
visitors — half  what  they  came  for,  and  the  other  half  curi- 
osity. Ah,  me  !  there  was  poor  Master  Sedley,  laid  out 
in  state  in  the  grand  coffin.  Better,  yes,  better  a  pine 
board,  if  but  one  poor  slave  could  say  '  he  broke  my  chain. ' 
I  fear  the  angels  shut  him  out  of  their  everlasting  habita- 
tions. But  the  folks  left  behind,  feel  better  and  bigger, 
and  it  seems  to  me  they  do  the  best  they  can  to  prove,  in 
the  face  of  Almighty  God,  that  he  died  happy.  Great 
Master — Dr.  Woodville — come  ;  they  say  he  is  cruel  as 
the  evil  one  ;  but  he  is  a  big  talk  man  ;  speaks  very  grand. 
We  all  were  gathered  to  hear  him  pray  before  they  carried 
the  corpse  to  the  long  home.  There  he  prayed — a  great 
many  set,  solemn  words  put  together,  and  repeated  very, 
very  slow.  The  mighty  knows  there  was  no  more  feeling 
in  them  than  in  the  poor  dead  body  that  lay  in  the  coffin. 
Well,  after  the  funeral,  the  feast  came  on  ;  and  while  they 
were  eating,  I  be-thought  me  of  poor  Master  Arthur  ;  and 
then  I  remembered  I  had  not  seen  Gibby  all  day.  I  did  not 
think  so  much  about  Marian,  for  I  knew  she  was  ordered 
to  keep  her  room.  I  went  up  to  Master  Arthur's  room  and 
knocked.  He  came.  '  Where  is  Gibby, '  said  he  ;  '  I  have 
not  seen  him  to-day.  I  thought  perhaps  Uncle  had  employ- 
ed him.  Jim,  the  cook's  boy,  brought  me  my  breakfast,  but 
he  could  tell  me  nothing  of  Gib.  Where  is  the  boy  ?  ' 
'Perhaps,'  said  I,  '  he  is  in  Master  Livingston's  room — the 
house  is  so  full,  I  will  go  see  !  but  first,  1  must  bring  you 
some  supper.  I  always  had  a  feeling  for  Master  Arthur.  ' 
"  Not  to  interrupt  thy  story,  Sybil, '  said  I,  'what  caus- 
ed this  feeling  f  " 


95 

"  I  suppose,"  said  she,  "  because  I  loved  his  poor  mo- 
ther. She,  very  different  from  Madam  Livingston,  was 
kind  to  me,  kind  to  every  body  ;  and  I  think,  before  she 
died,  she  gained  an  entrance." 

"  But  go  on,  Sybil,  with  thy  story,"  said  I. 

"  I  went  to  the  house-keeper,"  said  she,  "  got  a  waiter 
full  of  the  best,  and  a  cup  of  coffee,  and  took  it  up  to 
Massa  Arthur's  room,  praying,  all  the  way,  that  he  might 
not  think  of  Gibby.  So  I  gives  him  his  coffee  and  he  says 
nothing,  because  he  was  very  hungry,  and  never  very 
suspectful.  I  went  down,  glad  enough  :  but  just  at  the 
foot  of  the  stairs,  I  met  Master  Livingston,  and  heard  him 
give  orders  that  every  servant  must  be  in  at  evening  pray- 
ers, to  hear  Dr.  Woodville  pray.  Then  I  knew  all  would 
be  out,  and  I  said  to  myself,  and  I  will  be  out  of  the  way  ; 
so  1  came  off  home.  But  Pete  was  in  here,  friend  Jonas, 
just  before  you  came,  and  told  me  there  was  a  great  alarm 
at  the  big  house,  and  he  says  they  are  to  have  a  great 
hunt,  and  they  mean  to  get  out  a  warrant  for  Jasmyn. 
Oh,  friend  Jonas,"  concluded  Sybil,  "  this  world  got  to  be 
just  like  totheF  bad  world." 

The  good  Jonas  told  us  this  story,  we  knew,  in  Sybil's 
words,  to  divert  our  minds  from  anxious  thought. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

Wherein  the  chattel  still  speaks  For  himself. 

The  sun  was  going  down  ;  his  parting  rays  shot  clown 
into  the  cavern,  where  a  scene  was  now  about  to  take 
place,  which  the  hoary  walls  of  that  rude  abode  had  never 
witnessed.  Jasmyn  and  Marian  were  about  to  pledge 
those  sacred  vows,  solemn  at  all  times,  but  doubly  so  in 
our  present  situation.  For  other  brides,  a  happy  home,  at 
such  a  season,  assumes  an  appearance  of  joy  and  festal 
mirth,  unknown  to  other  occasions.  The  brightest  smiles, 
the  tenderest  caresses,  the  choicest  gifts  are  showered  up- 
on the  bride  ;  but  my  sister  had  no  home  to  brighten  at 
her  marriage  !  for  her,  no  tokens  of  friendship  !  no  conse- 
crated altar  !  no  crowds  of  gay  friends  !  yet  was  Marian's 
no  vulgar  bridal,  as  she  stood  up  with  her  betrothed,  and 
the  rays  of  the  setting  sun  seemed  to  gather  around  them, 
while  'on  perils  brink'  they  pledged  their  vows.  Their  love 
stood  out  as  it  were,  in  more  full  relief  from  the  gloom 
around  them.  There  were  tears  in  the  eyes  of  the  Fugitive 
bride  ;  such  tears  as  angels  might  stoop  to  wipe  away.  As 
they  stood  in  that  glimmering  light  mingled  with  the  dark 
shadows  of  the  cave,  the  whole  groupe  would  have  made 
a  fine  subject  for  the  painter.  The  rude,  natural  temple, 
well  suited  to  such  a  bridal,  the  ancient  hermit,  Paul,  with 
his  long  white  locks,  seated  on  the  broad  stone  in  the  deep 
shade  of  the  cave,  like  the  realization  of  some  old  time, 


97 

myth,  with  the  shadows  of  the  future  on  his  brow,  and  his 
seer-like  eyes,  now  gazing  on  the  young  pair,  now  seeming 
to  look  further  on  than  the  present.  The  youthful  pair  ; 
the  past,  present  and  future  struggling  within  them  ;  yet, 
over  all,  the  present  fulfilment  of  their  dearest  hopes — for 
the  time  triumphant ;  the  grand,  composed  Jonas,  his 
countenance  ever  full  of  a  peace  that  the  world  cannot  give 
nor  take  away  ;  these  would  have  formed  a  grouping 
worthy  the  highest  art.  The  ceremony  was  finished,  by 
the  request  of  Jonas,  with  a  silent  sitting.  I  seated  myself 
near  the  mouth  of  the  cave  ;  Marian  and  her  husband  sat 
with  linked  hands  in  deep  prayer  ;  a  sweet  calmness  from 
above  came  over  us ;  but  suddenly  I  started  to  my  feet, 
for  I  heard  a  distant  sound  like  the  bay  of  a  blood-hound. 
I  announced  it  to  my  friends. 

"  Merciful  God  !  "  exclaimed  Marian,  rising  from  the 
side  of  her  husband, 

"  Fear  not,  "  said  Jonas,  "  Gilbert  may  be  mistaken.  " 
"  Hark  !  "  said  I,  "  the  same  cry,  but  nearer.  " 
"  Let  us  fly  while  we  can,"  said  Jasmyn,  casting  a  look 
upon  his  wife  that  told  for  whom  alone  he  feared.  " 

"  If  they  are  really  coming,  "  said  Jonas,  "  it  is  too  late 
to  fly  ;  in  this  place  we  should  be  easily  taken  ;  our  only 
chance  is  to  stay  where  we  are.  This  cave  is  not  easily- 
discovered  ;  but  I  hope  it  is  not  so  ;  certainly  this  is  not  the 
course  they  would  be  likely  to  take.  " 

We  rolled  a  large  stone  to  the  mouth  of  the  cave.  Mar- 
ian shrunk  trembling  behind  her  husband,  fearfully  listen- 
ing. What  a  bride  !  the  vows  of  love  had  been  breathed 
from  those  pale  lips  but  a  few  moments  before  ;  a  few 

brief,  sweet  moments  wrested  from  a  cruel  fate.  Too  soon 
9 


98 

all  knew  I  was  not  mistaken.  Jonas,  Jasmyn  and  myself, 
ranged  ourselves  before  the  mouth  of  the  cave.  And  now 
old  Paul  arose,  throwing  his  arms  in  the  air  ;  "  I  feared 
this,  "  exclaimed  he  ;  "I  felt  the  shadow  fall  cold  upon 
me  !  I  heard  the  howl  of  the  hounds  !  "  He  ceased,  for 
on  rushed  the  dreadful  sound  ;  we  could  hear  the  tramp  of 
horses,  the  mad  cry  of  the  hounds,  nearer  and  nearer. — 
Marian  had  endured  to  her  utmost,  and  fell.  Old  Paul 
raised  her  in  his  arms,  and  carried  her  back  to  the  farthest 
extremity  of  the  cave.  "  Leave  not  thy  post,  "  said  he  to 
Jasmyn,  "  and  God  help  thee  !  "  Our  desperate  hope  was 
that  they  would  not  find  the  cave.  But,  oh  !  the  blood- 
hound's scent  was  too  sure.  They  rush  up  the  rocky  as- 
cent, down  through  the  opening;  hounds  yelling,  and  men 
more  fell  than  they  ;  men  ! — none  but  devils  inhabiting  the 
forms  of  men,  ever  rode  on  a  man  hunt !  We  defended 
the  pass  as  well  as  we  could  ;  but  in  vain  ;  we  were  seiz- 
ed and  bound,  and  now  came  the  worst  of  horrors. 

"  Here  is  the  prize,  "  said  Dr.  Woodville  ;  for  he  was 
a  consistent  man,  who  lived  out  his  religion  ;  and,  believ- 
ing Slavery  a  divine  institution,  rode  ahead  of  the  hunters 
of  men.  "  Here  is  the  prize,"  said  he,  advancing  where 
Marian,  who  had  not  come  out  of  her  swoon,  was  guarded 
by  ancient  Paul.  "  Thou  shalt  not  have  her  !  son  of  the 
pit !"  said  Paul,  "  She  is  of  God  ! — thou  shalt  not  have 
her  !" 

"  We  will  see,"  said  two  or  three  men,  coming  forward. 
The  old  man  now  rese  and  stood  before  Marian,  spreading 
his  arms  before  the  corner  where  she  lay.  They  came 
on  ;  the  old  man  wrestled  with  wonderful  energy,  bat 
they  dashed  him  with  contemptuous  fury  against  the  rag- 


99 

ged  rocks,  and  one  of  the  blood-hounds  fleshed  his  cruel 
fangs  in  him  as  he  lay,  while  these  men  bore  off.  their  vic- 
tim. This  scene,  fiendish  as  it  was,  is  no  worse  than 
many  others  on  slavery's  bloody  records.  Oh,  America  ! 
the  grey  hairs  of  a  premature  senility  of  crime  are  upon 
thee,  but  thou  knowest  it  not.  We  were  all  bound  and  car- 
ried to  prison.  Marian  only  recovered  her  senses  to  find  her- 
self and  all  of  us  fastened  up  in  one  cell  for  the  night. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 
The  narrator  again  goes  on  M  ith  the  history. 

On  that  fatal  night  of  the  capture  of  the  fugitives,  a 
runaway  slave  who  had  found  her  way  from  Texas,  where 
she  had  been  subjected  to  terrible  cruelties,  and  to  the 
ruthless  control  of  those  dire  tyrants,  northern  men  turned 
slave-holders,  came  wandering  on  that  desolate,  lonely 
shore,  near  the  cave.  She  was  a  noble  specimen  of  the 
Americanized  African,  being  of  the  Congo  race.  Her 
step  was  that  of  a  queen,  as  she  wandered  in  that  wild 
place,  though  her  ragged  dress  fluttered  in  the  wind.  Her 
form  was  replete  with  natural  strength  and  dignity.  An 
ample  chest,  a  broad,  full  forehead,  large,  clear,  black 
eyes,  as  bright  as  diamonds,  and  teeth  that  glittered  like 
pearls.  Pete,  who  had  dogged  the  hunters,  even  to  the 
mouth  of  the  cave,  and  had  skulked  round  till  all  were  gone, 
saw  her  from  the  top  of  a  hill,  and  superstitiously  believ- 
ing her  a  supernatural  being,  took  himself  off  homewards. 
Pete  was  a  lawless  sort  of  a  being,  like  the  clowns  who 
amused  the  idle  great  ones  of  olden  days.  He  was  of 
small  service,  except  to  cause  merriment,  and  little  heed 
was  taken  whether  he  absconded  or  staid  at  home.  But 
to  return  to  our  run-away-  She  was  very  hungry,  and  was 
searching  about  for  some  roots  and  berries,  to  allay  her 
keen  appetite,  when  low,  faint  moans  reached  her  ear. 
She  had  a  warm,  kind  heart,  and  as  is  the  case  with  gen- 


101 

erous  natures,  her  own  woes  had  increased,  instead  of 
blunting,  her  sensibilities.  She  stopped  at  once  to  listen, 
and  taking  up  her  bundle,  she  followed  the  sound.  She 
clambered  up  the  rocky  eminence,  leaving  remnants  of 
her  wretched  dress,  in  the  way.  At  length  she  reached 
the  cave,  no  longer  screened  from  observation  ;  for  the 
vine  and  tree  had  been  all  wrenched  away  by  the  late  ruth- 
less intruders.  She  soon  found  the  opening,  and  pushed 
along  through  the  narrow  entrance.  Having  entered,  she 
could  see,  by  the  pale  rays  of  the  moon,  shining  through 
the  clefts  of  the  cavern,  a  strange  old  man,  with  a  long, 
white  beard,  lying  on  a  bed  of  dried  leaves.  His  venera- 
ble beard  and  grey  locks,  were  stained  with  blood.  His 
dress  was  torn,  and  wet  with  the  life-current ;  the  feeble 
moans  that  had  drawn  her  to  the  spot,  came  piteously  from 
his  failing  voice.  With  a  heart  full  of  sympathy,  she  drew 
near  the  old  man,  and  said  kindly,  "  Master,  what  can  I 
do  for  you  ?  " 

"  Who  art  thou  ?"  said  Paul ;  "  God  has  sent  thee. 
They  took  her  away,  and  dashed  me  against  the  rock,  and 
let  their  blood-hound  tear  me.  Look  here,  my  daughter, 
look,  see  the  cruel  wound."  He  opened  his  vest  and  dis- 
played the  place  where  the  hound  had  torn  his  flesh.  He 
then  told  his  new  visitant  where  to  find  some  herbs  ;  of 
which,  she  made  a  wash,  cleansed  his  wounds,  and  then 
carefully  bound  them  up.  The  grateful  old  man  then 
said  again,  "  Thou  art  sent  of  God  !  tell  me  thy  name." 

"  My  name  is  Cornelia  ;  I  came  from  a  great  way  off; 
I  do  not  want  to  tell  any  more  than  this." 

"  If  thou  feelest  safe  here,  wilt  thou  stay  with  me  a 
little  while,"  said  the  old  man  ;  "  I  have  plenty  of  food  for 
9* 


102 

thee  and  for  me.  The  man-hunters  have  left  me  for  dead, 
and  they  will  not  come  here  again  soon." 

"  Yes,"  said  Cornelia,  "  I  will  stay  with  you  ;  "  then  ad- 
ded, "  I  would  not  tell  you  till  your  wound  was  dressed, 
but  I  am  almost  starved,  good  father.  I  am  nearly  fam- 
ished." 

"  Go,"  said  the  thankful  Paul,  "  go,  take  all  thou  desi- 
rest  from  what  provision  I  have." 

Cornelia  gladly  kindled  a  fire  in  a  rude  fire-place  the 
hermit  had  constructed,  and  prepared  herself  a  repast ;  not 
forgetting,  before  she  would  consent  to  eat  herself,  to  feed 
the  helpless  old  hermit.  This  done,  perceiving  the  old 
man  had  fallen  asleep,  she  stretched  her  weary  form  on 
the  bed  of  leaves,  where  Marian  had  slept  the  preceding 
night,  and  was  soon  in  a  sweet  and  profound  slumber. 
The  sun  had  arisen  when  Cornelia  awoke  in  this  peaceful 
abode.  It  was,  in  her  eyes,  a  refuge  and  a  home,  wild  as 
it  was,  for  she  had  been  traveling  for  months,  without  a 
guide  or  compass.  She  arose,  and  finding  the  old  man 
awake,  her  first  care  was  to  wash  and  dress  his  wounds. 
Oh  !  there  is  nothing  on  earth  so  angelic,  as  a  kind  wo- 
man softly  ministering  about  the  bed  of  suffering.  She 
constantly  attended  him,  but  with  all  her  care  and  skill — 
for  God  had  sent  his  servant  a  skilful  nurse — his  fever  in- 
creased. One  day,  when  his  fever  was  off",  he  said  to  her 
"  Cornelia,  dost  thou  know  the  Saviour  ?  " 

"  Till  two  years  ago  I  knew  no  Jesus  ;  then  an  Indian 
missionary  came  where  I  lived,  and  I  heard  him  speak  the 
great  gospel.  First  my  heart  get  angry  and  bad  to  hear  it ; 
then  it  strive  to  get  away  from  it,  like  a  poor  bird  that  beats 
against  a  cage  ;  then  when  I  found  I  could  not  get  away 


103 

from  the  great  God,  I  cry  for  mercy  till  Jesus  make  me  alt 
free." 

The  old  man,  upon  this,  discoursed  a  little  with  CorneliaT 
opening  to  her  the  faith.  He  then  said,  "  my  good  girl,  I 
cannot  live  long,  though  thy  cares  have  lessened  my  suf- 
ferings. Lift  up  yonder  curtain,  and  thou  wilt  find  a  lock- 
ed box.  Here  is  the  key  of  it,"  said  he,  loosening  a  little 
key  from  a  ribband  about  his  neck.  ;t  Open  the  box  and 
bring  me  the  manuscript  that  lies"  on  the  top."  Cornelia 
obeyed  him.  "  There,"  said  he,  taking  the  manuscript  in 
his  hand,  "  are  traces  and  traits  of  my  past  history.  Thou 
must  keep  this,  till  thou  seest  Jonas  Freeman,  a  light  of 
God  with  whom  thy  destiny  shall  yet  link  thee  in  Christian 
fellowship.  Thou  wilt  also  find,  in  that  box,  a  picture, 
and  a  few  jewels  ;  the  jewels  are  thine  ;  they  will  pur- 
chase thy  freedom  ;  use  them  for  that.  Give  the  picture 
to  Aimee  Freeman,  after  I  am  dead,  whom  I  have  known 
from  a  child.  How  often  then  has  she  laid  her  head,  rich 
with  golden  locks,  on  my  lap,  while  I  told  her  stories  of 
other  lands.  Would  I  could  see  her  before  I  die,  who  was 
unto  me  as  a  daughter.  But  now,  let  me  look  upon  that 
picture  once  more  before  I  die." 

Cornelia  replaced  the  manuscript  in  the  box,  and  taking 
out  the  case  which  contained  the  miniature,  gave  it  to  Paul. 
He  looked  at  it,  and  the  tears  flowed  down  his  face  ;  but 
he  spoke  not,  only  motioned  to  Cornelia  to  look  at  it  also, 
"  Is  it  not  an  angel  ?  "  innocently  asked  Cornelia,  for  a 
soft,  rosy  cloud  veiled  the  figure,  and  you  only  saw  the 
face — one  of  those  faces  which  have  more  of  Heaven  than 
earth. 

"  She  is  an  angel  now,"  said  the  old  man.     "  She  is  my 


104 

guardian  angel,  and  we  shall  soon  meet  in  Heaven.  There,- 
you  may  put  it  back  now,  my  hour  is  at  hand."  To- 
wards evening,  the  old  man  grew  worse,  and  Cornelia  was 
so  intent  upon  attending  upon  him,  that  she  did  not  per- 
ceive that  somebody  had  entered  the  cave,  till  she  looked 
up  and  saw  a  yonng  female  whom  she  immediately  con- 
cluded was  the  daughter  of  Jonas,  of  whom  the  hermit  had 
spoken.  Aimee,  for  it  was  she,  was  surprised,  but  glad 
to  find  Paul  not  alone.  "  I  do  not  know  thee,"  said  she  to 
Cornelia,  "  but  I  am  glad  to  see  thee  engaged  in  this  kind 
office." 

"  Aimee  Freeman,  my  child,  art  thou  come  ?  "  said  Paul, 
as  she  came  to  his  bedside. 

"  Yes,  Friend  Paul,  and  I  thought  I  should  find  thcc 
alone  in  thy  misery  ;  but  I  sec  God  has  sent  thee  a  kind 
nurse,  and  if  thou  feclest  at  liberty,"  said  she,  turning  to 
Cornelia,  "  I  should  like  to  know  what  has  led  thee  here, 
and  who  thou  art  that  has  been  sent  to  the  aid  of  our  friend 
in  his  extremity."  Cornelia  related  as  much  of  her  story 
as  she  had  told  to  Paul,  and  Aimee  was  deeply  interested. 

"  Tell  me,"  said  Paul,  "  oh  !  tell  me  what  has  become 
of  thy  own  dear  father  and  those  dear  children  of  the  En- 
slaved Nation." 

Aimee  began  to  weep,  and  it  was  some  time  ere  she 
could  command  herself  enough  to  tell  what  had  become  of 
the  fugitives  and  their  friend. 

"  1  was  sitting  at  home,"  said  she,  "  expecting  my  fath- 
er's return,  but  not  without  some  presentiment  of  evil  at 
hand.  Dorcas  said  to  me,  '  what  ailcth  thee,  Aimee,  thou 
art  not  easy  in  thy  mind  ?  '  But  we  prepared  his  supper, 
and  1  took  down  a  book  to  read  to  him  and  watched  for 


105 

him  from  the  window.  It  grew  late,  but  no  father  came. 
Then  came  a  rap  at  the  door  ;  I  went — it  was  a  stranger. 
I  knew  before  lie  spoke,  he  was  the  bearer  of  evil  tidings. 
1  Is  this  the  house  of  Jonas  Freeman  ?  *  Yes.  '  Are  you 
his  daughter?  '  Yes.  '•Your  father  is  in  jail,'  said  the 
man,  '  and  wishes  you  to  come  to  him.'  Tell  him  I  will, 
said  I.  I  tried  to  speak  firmly,  though  I  felt  ready  to  sink. 
I  went  in  and  told  Dorcas,  who  was-  greatly  moved.  God 
is  with  us,  dear  Dorcas,  said  I,  let  us  trust  in  the  Lord. 
Then  we  had  the  wagon  made  ready,  and  filled  it  with 
what  we  thought  he  would  need,  and  went  to  the  prison. 
The  crowd  the  occasion  had  brought  together,  had  not  dis- 
persed, but  I  feared  them  not.  1  went  to  the  cell  where 
the  prisoners  were.  My  dear  father  met  and  embraced 
me.  '  Be  of  good  cheer,  my  Aimee,'  said  he,  '  but  pray 
that  thy  father  may  witness  to  a  good  confession  of  Christ 
in  the  person  of  the  poor  slave,  in  this  new  martyr  age.' 
My  poor  father  told  me  he  had  not  sent  for  me  so  soon,  on 
his  own,  but  on  thy  account,  Paul,  and  he  told  me  that  he 
saw  thee  dashed  up  against  the  rough  side  of  the  cave-, 
and  that  a  blood-hound  mangled  thee.  And  thus  thou  wast 
left ;  and  he  charged  rne  to  take  thee  to  our  house,  and 
nurse  thee  well." 

"  The  Eternal  ever  shine  upon  thee  and  him ;  but 
know  that  my  race  is  run  ;  I  must  not  be  removed.  I 
have  ever  prayed  for  a  crown  of  martyrdom,  and  lo  !  it  is 
mine  ;  for  Jesus  counts  all  that  is  done  to  his  poor  weak 
brethren,  as  done  to  him.  But  tell  me,  how  is  the  poor 
girl  I  vainly  tried  to  save  ?" 

"  She  never  came  out  of  her  swoon,"  said  Aimee, 
*'  till  some  time  after  she  was  in  the  prison  ;  and  she  then 


106 

related  strange  and  wonderful  things,  how  an  angel  had 
taken  her,  and  led  her  to  the  top  of  a  lovely  green  hill, 
and  he  bade  her  look  down  from  whence  she  was  taken 
captive  ;  and  she  looked,  and  behold  !  thy  spirit  ascended 
from  out  this  cave,  attended  by  one  whom  thou  didst  seem 
to  joy  to  meet,  and  ye  swiftly  ascended  through  the  open- 
ing heaven,  chaunting  praise  to  the  Redeemer.  She  said, 
as  the  angel  left,  there  was  sweet  music  in  her  ears,  utter- 
ing these  words,  '  Twice,  Thrice  through  the  Furnace 
past,  happy  and  free  and  saved  at  last.'  She  appeared," 
said  Aimee,  "  to  be  much  sustained,  and  I  doubt  not  was 
happier  than  her  oppressors.  But  now,  Paul,  if  thou  wilt 
not  be  removed,  let  me  make  thee  as  comfortable  as  I  can 
here.  1  brought  a  light  mattress  in  the  wagon,  to  move 
thee  on,  and  a  boy  came  with  me  to  help  me.  Allow  us 
to  place  thee  upon  it."  With  these  words,  she  went  out, 
and  bringing  in  the  mattress  and  pillow,  she  and  Cornelia, 
with  the  assistance  of  the  boy,  placed  him  upon  it. 

"  Ye  are  kind,"  said  the  old  man,  "  but  my  pulse  wax- 
es low,  and  my  sight  grows  dim." 

"  I  shall  stay  with  thee  to-night,"  said  Aimee.  The  old 
man  thanked  them,  and  then  asked  Cornelia  to  bring  him 
the  manuscript  and  picture.  "  Here,"  said  he,  to  Aimee, 
are  some  sketches  of  the  past ;  give  them  to  thy  father. 
The  picture,  thou  must  keep  for  my  sake.  Thou  hast 
kissed  it  when  a  child,  and  wondered  at  the  beauty  of  the 
face.  Ah  !  Aimee,  those  eyes,  as  fair  as  thine,  have  wept 
with  a  sorrow  unto  death.  That  heart,  holy  as  thine  own, 
was  broken  by  grief.  Then  let  not  thy  trust  be  to  escape 
sorrow,  but  lean  on  the  Lord,  who  sanclifieth  affliction. 
The  jewels  are  Cornelia's,  to  purchase  her  freedom  ;  for 


107 

the  days  are  at  hand,  when  this  broad  land,  so  proudly 
consecrated  to  freedom,  shall  become  the  hunting  range 
of  tyrants.  Bury  me  on  the  shores  of  the  river,  children  ! 
A  sweet  communion  is  opening  in  my  soul,  and  I  wish  to 
be  alone  with  God  !  withdraw  a  little,  but  do  not  go  very  far 
from  me,  ye  blessed  guardians." 

The  two  females  retired  a  little,  and  silently  watched 
the  dying  man.  Suddenly  his  dying  voice  broke  forth  in 
a  strain  of  music,  such  as  they  had  never  heard  before, 
and  singing,  his  breath  passed  away. 

Aimee  and  Cornelia  stood  for  some  time  in  silence,  look- 
ing upon  the  face  of  the  newly  dead.  Years  of  holy  re- 
tirement, of  high  and  spiritual  communion  had  left  upon 
him  a  look  that  might  have  belonged  to  some  ancient 
prophet.  They  then  prayed  together,  and  afterwards  de- 
cently attired  their  departed  friend.  They  found  that 
mortification  had  already  taken  place  in  the  wound,  and 
this,  as  well  as  their  own  state,  caused  them  to  decide  on 
an  immediate  interment.  Cornelia  herself  went  out  and 
dug  the  grave  of  her  benefactor.  About  midnight — the 
hour  Paul  had  chosen — the  two  friends  buried  the  depart- 
ed. The  voice  of  the  mournful  waves  and  the  sighing 
winds,  were  his  dirge  ;  the  high,  solemn  stars  were  the 
funereal  lights  ;  and  the  two  sole  mourners,  who  spoke  not, 
but  silently  mingled  their  tears  over  his  body,  were  worthy 
to  weep  at  the  grave  of  a  martyr.  When  all  was  over, 
Aimee  said  to  Cornelia,  "  my  horse  and  wagon  are  with- 
out in  the  wood  ;  the  boy,  I  sent  back  ;  now  is  the  time  for 
thee  to  ride  home  with  me  unobserved.1'  Cornelia  lifted 
the  box  containing  the  hermit's  treasures,  into  the  wagon, 


108 

and  they  drove  off  rapidly  towards  what  was  so  lately  the 
happy  home  of  Jonas  Freeman.  On  their  arrival,  Aimee 
secreted  Cornelia,  and  retired  to  rest. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 
The  narrator  continues  the  story. 

The  morning,  the  clear,  beautiful,  animating  morning 
appeared.  When  there  is  deep  sorrow  at  heart,  the  un- 
conscious gladness  of  nature  sometimes  oppresses  us. 
Aimee  felt  something  of  this  as  she  rose,  as  usual,  with  the 
sun,  and  from  her  window  locked  out  on  that  glow  which 
had  once  ushered  in  for  her  such  days  of  innocent  happi- 
ness ;  but  she  sought  renovation  for  her  soul  In  prayer, 
and  for  her  person  in  unsparing  ablutions  of  water. 
"  Poor  father,  "  sighed  she,  "  I  must  take  him  his  bathing 
vessel  ;  he  will  not  live  without  water.  "  After  taking 
Cornelia  her  breakfast,  she  rode  over  to  the  prison.  The 
usual  calm  current  of  Aimee's  life  had  been  broken  up, 
but  she  knew  where  her  strength  lay,  and  this  caused  her 
self-possession  and  reliability.  On  entering  her  father's 
cell  sh  e  found  him  alone.  Jasmyn  had  been  removed  to 
another  apartment.  Gilbert  and  Marian,  Jonas  told  her, 

had  been  taken  away  to  be  sold,  he  knew  not  to  whom. 
In  the  course  of  the  day,  Aimee  read  to  her  father  a  part 
of  Paul's  manuscript,  which  was  as  follows  :— 

"  Ah  !  what  avails  it  that  thou  art  kind  and  devoted,  my 

mother,  since  thou  art  weded  to  a  tyrant  to  whom  thou  dost 
entirely  yield  thy  will,  and  makest  not  only  thyself  but  me, 
thy  fatherless  one,  a  slave  of  despotic  power  ;  a  slave  to 
him  who  would  force  upon  me  against  my  will  the  priest- 
ly office  ? 

10 


110 


How  came  the  tyrant  to  have  such  a  daughter  ?  Was 
that  wife  who  preceded  my  unhappy  mother,  like  her,  the 
victim  of  one  who  was  unworthy  of  her  love  ?  Agnes,  why 
did  they  suffer  me  to  grow  up  with  thee  to  inhale  all  the 
opening  fragrance  of  thy  soul  from  the  bud  to  the  blos- 
soming ;  and  then  give  the  iron  mandate  that  I  should  be 
a  priest  and  thou  a  nun  ?  well,  I  know  that  this  is  done  to 
benefit  his  son,  my  own  half  brother  ;  but  arrogant,  proud, 

selfish,  like  his  father. 

*  #  #  *  *  *  * 

They  have  removed  her !  I  have  nothing  of  her  but  this 
picture !  I  look  upon  it !  there  are  the  eyes  that  have 
wept  when  I  wept,  and  smiled  when  I  smiled  ;  there  are 
the  lips  that  spoke  to  me  in  the  music  of  affection.  And  I 
shall  see  her  no  more  !  and  they  will  make  a  nun  of  her. 
Yes,  a  nun  of  her !  ! 

******* 
Here  I  am  in  this  monastery.  I  have  always  been  a 
thoughtful  one.  I  have  sought,  beyond  the  ceremonies  of 
the  church,  the  beloved  of  my  soul,  the  Redeemer.  And, 
though  my  search  was  lonely  and  unaided,  I  have  found 
him,  who  has  satisfied  the  innate  yearnings  of  my  soul  for 
a  Saviour.  And,  since  the  anointing  has  fallen  on  me,  I 
can  see  how  many  around  me  know  him  not.  They  rest 
in  the  shadow  and  seek  not  the  substance.  The  sponta- 
neous Teachings  of  a  soul  after  the  Saviour  are  deadened  by 

the  lifeless  observances  in  which  they  satisfy  themselves. 
******* 

Agnes  escaped  ?  is  it  possible  !  and,  with  Bertha,  too, 
her  faithful  nurse.  She  is  more  heroic  than  I  am  ;  while 


Ill 

man  considers,  woman  acts.     These  words  are  hers  ;  yes. 

hei's  :  '  Meet  me  to-night.  * 

#  ****** 

It  is  all  over  ;  the  walls  of  a  prison  surround  me  ;  how 
hideous !  how  heart  shuddering !  Did  God  ever  design 
that  man  should  ever  build  these  living  graves  for  his 

brother  ? 

******* 

I  am  accused  of  heresy,  and  of  attempting  to  abduct  a 
novice.  Is  truth  heresy  ?  they  asked  me  if  I  could  not  see 
the  substance  through  the  sign  ?  I  said,  what  need  of  the 
sign  when  I  have  already  the  substance  ?  Poor  Agnes  ! 
the  keeper  tells  me  she  is  ill,  too  ill  to  be  yet  returned  to 

the  convent. 

******* 

She  is  dead  !  Agnes  is  dead  !  My  mother  has  been  to 
see  me.  She  came  in,  pale  and  trembling  ;  I  fell  on  her 
bosom  and  wept  to  find  myself  there  in  nature's  home. 
But  oh  !  she  held  out  to  me  a  lock  of  hair,  of  long  dark 
hair,  and  said:  Do  you  know  whose  hair  this  is  ?  She  is 
no  more.  She  sent  this  last  token.  I  could  not  speak.  1 
sat  down  on  my  cold  prison  floor  and  wept  as  those  weep 
whose  heart  is  breaking.  My  mother  took  a  stool  and  sat 
down  near  me.  She  laid  my  head  on  her  lap.  I  felt  her 
tears  fall  on  my  hot  temples.  It  roused  me  from  my  sel- 
fish grief.  I  strove  to  console  her:  Now  she  has  gone  ; 

all  are  gone  but  God,  who  never  forsakes  me. 

******* 

Father  Joseph  has  been  here.  Through  the  influence 
of  my  father-in-law  my  punishment  is  commuted  to  exile. 
I  shall  go  to  America ;  1  will  live  there  a  hermit,  commun- 
ing with  the  holy  ones, 


112 


Another  visit  from  my  mother.  Ever  kind,  she  tells  me  her 
husband  has  consented  she  should  purchase  for  me  a  small 
life  annuity,  payable  to  whoever  I  may  name  in  America. 
She  brought  me,  also,  a  box  of  jewels,  of  some  value,  be- 
longing to  Agnes,  left  to  me.  My  mother  was  pale  and  sick. 
'  Dear  mother, '  said  I,  '  thou  canst  not  endure  much  more.1 
'  Not  much  more,'  said  she,  '  parting  with  my  dear  son 

will  kill  me  !' 

******* 

Heavenly  Father  !  thou  hast  taken  her  ;  she  died  last 
night.  The  strain  was  too  much  upon  her  poor  weak 
heart.  A  blood  vessel  burst.  Yet  I  have  a  sense  of  relief 
amidst  my  sorrows.  I  shall  not  leave  her  in  the  hands  of 
her  tormentor.  I  have  none  to  leave  behind.  Are  not 

Agnes  and  my  mother  in  heaven  ? 

******* 

I  am  on  ship-board.  I  have  found  here  an  American. 
His  name  is  David  Freeman.  He  is  of  the  sect  called 

Quakers,  or  Friends.     There  is  unction  in  his  words. 

******* 

David  Freeman  is  my  friend  ;  my  soul's  brother.  He 
advises  me  not  to  be  a  hermit ;  but  I  have  passed  away 
from  the  world.  Whatever  is  false  or  idolatrous  in  the 
faith  of  my  fathers,  I  resign  ;  but  never  the  belief  of  the 
Church  in  miracles,  in  the  communion  of  holy  men  with 
an  innumerable  company  of  angels,  and  in  the  call  of 

some  to  a  life  of  retired  devotion* 

******* 

From  the  cave  after  a  long  interval.  Ten  years  have 
passed  in  this  solitude.  I  live  in  God.  This  cave  is  a 


113 

holy  place  of  continual   worship   in   the  silence    of  love. 
David  Freeman  is  no  more  on  earth.     But  he  has  left  be- 
hind  him  an  inheritor  of  his  virtues." 
Here  Aimee  ceased  to  read. 


10* 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

In  which  Gilbert  speaketh  for  himself 

When  Marian  and  myself  were  released  from  prison, 
we  were  immediately  taken  back  to  Livingston  Lawn. 
Master  Arthur  sent  for  me  to  come  to  his  room  as  soon  as 
I  arrived,  and  told  me  he  had  purchased  me  as  his  body- 
servant,  and  that  he  should  leave  that  day  for  New  Orleans, 
I  had  expected  correction,  and  was  glad  of  a  reprieve.  I 
liked  my  new  master  far  better  than  my  old  one  ;  yet  I 
still  trembled  for  my  sister.  Do  you  know,  sir,  said  I,  what 
will  become  of  my  sister  ? 

"  She  is  to  be  sold  to  a  soul-driver,  for  the  New  Orleans 
market.  He  will  take  her  next  week  ;  it  is  barbarous,  but 
I  cannot  help  it." 

Oh  !  good  Mr.  St.  Vallery  !  said  I,  do  have  pity  upon 
me,  and  ask  if  I  cannot  see  my  dear  sister,  if  it  is  only  for 
a  moment. 

"  As  she  is  now  in  the  charge  of  Mrs.  Sedley,  Aunt 
Livingston's  sister,  perhaps  I  may  prevail  upon  her  to  con- 
sent to  it ;  but  uncle  1  cannot  ask." 

He  left  the  room,  and  soon  returned  with  Mrs.  Sedley's 
permission  for  me  to  see  Marian,  in  the  presence  of  my 
master.  I  thanked  God  for  this  answer  to  my  prayer. 
We  went  to  the  room  where  she  was  confined.  There  she 
sat,  with  the  fetters  still  on  her  wrists,  and  the  chains  on 
her  ancles.  At  sight  of  me,  tears  gushed  into  her  eyes, 


115 

and  she  sobbed  aloud  as  I  kissed  her.  Mr.  St.  Vallery 
looked  on  with  seeming  coolness,  as  if  he  paid  no  regard 
to  us  ;  but  I  saw  him  cast  a  glance  of  pity  and  concern  on 
Marian.  Dear  sister,  said  I,  clasping  her  poor,  fettered, 
trembling  form,  to  my  swelling  heart,  I  must  leave  here 
this  afternoon  ;  we  may  never  meet  again,  but  we  have 
both  got  religion. 

"  Yes,  dear  Gibby,"  said  she,  "  I  feel  that  this  is  all  that 
keeps  me  up.  Oh  Jesus  !  bless  my  brother,  my  own  dear 
Gibby,  and  bless  his  master,  and  give  him  the  sweet  grace 
of  God  also."  Mr.  St.  Vallery  spoke  very  quick  then,  as 
if  afraid  to  trust  himself.  "  You  must  go,  now,  Gilbert ; 
you  will  make  a  fool  of  me  too,  if  I  stay  here  any  longer. 
Good  bye,  Marian.  If  there  is  a  God  above,  he  will  take 
care  of  you  ;  'tis  a  savage  thing  keeping  you  chained 
thus,  and  if  they  don't  take  them  off,  I  will  raise  a  storm 
about  their  ears." 

We  then  left ;  my  heart  sunk  as  the  key  turned.  Ar- 
thur went  directly  to  Mrs.  Sedley.  I  stood  at  the  door, 
waiting.  He  gave  her  the  key,  and  said  to  her,  "  If  you 
want  Marian  to  sell  for  a  copper,  you  must  off  with  her 
fetters  and  chains.  She  will  not  look  like  any  thing,  if 
you  do  not,  for  she  will  mourn  herself  sick.  She  is  none 
of  these  common,  rude  wenches,  but  has  as  nice  a  feeling 
of  honor  as  you  have,  madam  ;  and  if  you  dinna  ken- 
where  she  took  it  from,  I  do.  If  that  cursed  soul-driver 
uses  her  well,  she  may  reach  New  Orleans  alive  ;  if  not, 
she  will  die  on  his  hands.  Mrs.  Sedley  told  him  she  would 
have  the  fetters  removed,  but  sarcastically  remarked,  she 
was  glad  to  discern  in  him  so  much  disinterested  benevo- 
lence. He  bowed  his  thanks  for  the  compliment,  and  left 


116 

the  room.  As  I  was  hurrying  to  and  fro,  making  our 
preparations  to  leave,  I  met  Sybil  coming  into  the  house. 
Poor  Sybil  looked  many  years  older  than  when  I  last  saw 
her.  She  took  my  hand,  and,  for  some  minutes,  could  not 
speak.  "  At  last,"  said  she,  "  I  have  come  up  here  to  try 
if  I  can  see  old  Master,  and  have  any  thing  done  for  my 
poor  Jasmyn.  To  think  how  hard  I  worked  to  get  him 
free.  Many  a  day  I  went  hungry,  and  kept  thinking  I 
should  have  my  dear  grand-child  free,  to  comfort  my  old 
age,  bye-and-bye.  And  when  the  blessed  time  came,  how 
thankful  I  was.  But  now  he  is  worse  off  than  ever,  and 
good  Friend  Jonas,  too.  Then  they  butchered  the  good 
hermit,  the  greatest  saint  that  ever  lived  ;  aye,  and  could 
see  what  all  men's  eyes  do  not  see.  I  have  been  to  the 
jail  this  morning ;  there  was  my  poor  Jasmyn,  in  irons  ! 
How  can  the  just,  merciful  Saviour  bear  so  long  to  see  his 
children,  '  bone  of  his  bone,  flesh  of  his  flesh,'  so  cruelly 
handled  ?  but  his  ways  will  not  be  found  out  to-day  nor 
to-morrow," 

How  does  Jasmyn  seem  ?  said  I. 

"  He  looks  real  sick  ;  but  he  says,  '  don't  grieve,  grand- 
mother, we  are  happier  in  our  souls  than  they  can  be.  I 
had  rather  be  a  slave  than  a  tyrant.'  But  the  poor  boy 
feels  it,  for  all.  Gibby,  child,  you  don't  think  how  lone- 
some my  old  hut  looks.  It  seems  a  great  cold  shadow  of 
death,  there.  No  more  good  prayer-meetings  in  old  Syb- 
il's hut.  No  more  sweet  singers  of  Israel,  there  to  praise 
the  poor  slave's  Saviour.  Then  I  forget  sometimes,  and 
hearken  to  hear  Jasmyn's  step  ;  then  the  bitter,  bitter  sor- 
row, runs  afresh  into  my  heart,  reminding  me  where  he  is. 
I  used  to  feel  well  and  thankful,  when  I  waked  in  the  morn- 


117 

ing  ;  but  now  the  grief  comes  back  fresh  when  I  first  wake, 
and  my  darling  is  right  before  me,  loaded  with  irons.  I 
am  afraid  they  will  keep  him  there,  and  then  sell  him  for 
his  jail  fees.  Oh  !  how  I  used  to  count  that  money  over 
days,  and  see  the  little  heap  grow  bigger,  and  think,  well, 
bless  God  !  Now  the  very  sight  of  the  box,  where  I  kept 
it,  makes  me  sick.  Poor  Scipio  looks  as  if  he  knew  it  all, 
and  whines  about  the  house.  But  here  I  stand  talking, 
and  what  good  does  that  do.  Don't  think  I  do  not  feel  for 
you  and  Marian,  I  do,  I  do  ;  my  heart  aches  all  the  time 
for  you.'* 

Good  bye,  Sybil,  said  I ;  I  never  expect  to  see  you 
again.  The  poor  old  soul  wept  as  she  turned  away  to 
seek  out  Mr.  Livingston.  That  evening  we  left  for  New 
Orleans.  After  my  arrival  in  the  city,  I  found  my  soul  in 
much  more  danger  than  my  body.  My  new  master  was 
kind  to  me.  He  was  very  thoughtless,  to  be  sure,  how 
things  went  on,  on  his  plantations,  so  that  he  had  the  free 
handling  of  the  money.  Having  so  recently  and  unex- 
pectedly become  his  own  master,  and  flush,  both  of  youth 
and  money,  he  soon  became  entirely  devoted  to  pleasure, 
and  seemed  to  grow  wilder  every  day.  His  favorite  com- 
panion was  his  old  correspondent  and  former  fellow-colle- 
gian, a  young  Texan,  who,  having  been  left  heir  to  a 
handsome  estate,  had  half  run  through  with  it,  and  was  a 
desperate  gambler.  He  was  witty,  and  good-natured,  but 
a  poor  companion  for  my  master.  Meantime  my  mind 
had  but  one  desire,  one  purpose — Liberty  for  myself  and 
my  sister.  I  watched  the  slave  auctions,  and  vessels,  ex- 
pecting to  see  Marian  ;  but  I  was  disappointed.  I  feared 
she  might  have  arrived  some  time  when  I  could  not  bo 


118 

there.     Things  went  on  thus.     At  length,   one    day  my 
master  came  in  ;  he   seemed  unusually  full  of  something 
or  other,  and  particularly  gracious  to  me.     But  that  even 
ing,  he  came  in  with   intelligence  that  fell   like  a  death 
blow,  upon  me. 

"  Gilbert,  "  said  he,  "  I  am  sorry  to  part  with  you,  but 
it  has  become  necessary  for  me  to  do  so,  and  I  have  sold 
you  to  my  friend,  Louis  Verney,  and  I  have  no  doubt  he 
will  use  you  well,  for,  though  a  dissipated,  high  fellow,  he 
has  a  very  good  heart." 

I  thought,  at  the  time,  he  had  gambled  me  away,  but 
afterwards  found  out  the  true  reason.  I  was  sorry  to  lose 
my  kind  master,  especially  as  I  knew  I  should  not  long 
remain  with  my  new  owner,  but  that  he  would  soon  gam- 
ble me  away,  perhaps  into  worse  hands  ;  but  my  stay  with 
him  was  even  shorter  than  I  had  expected  ;  for  just  one 
week  after,  he  gambled  me  away,  as  I  stood  behind  his 
chair,  to  another  young  blood.  This  young  fellow,  having 
another  body  servant,  did  not  want  me  ;  but  the  next  morn- 
ing an  uncle  of  his.,  a  clergyman,  calling  on  him  at  his  ho- 
tel, he  sold  me  to  him.  I  love  a  minister  of  Christ  with 
my  whole  heart,  but  such  a  burly  clergyman  as  this,  I 
never  saw.  Dr.  Woodville,  though  wicked,  was  courtly  ; 
but  this  man  looked  more  fit  for  a  corsair  than  a  minister. 
He  had  been  to  the  Mexican  war ;  called  it  a  holy  war,  and 
prided  himself  on  the  number  of  poor  Mexicans,  who,  as 
he  said,  had  tasted  his  powder.  He  had  that  heartless 
facetiousness  which  is  found  in  very  cruel  men,  yet  passes 
with  many  for  good  humor.  His  face  was  tinged  with  that 
terrestrial  '  rosy  red, '  which  marked  his  daily  familiarity 
with  the  best  and  most  racy  champagne.  He  was  also  a 


119 

great  smoker.  He  was  a  very  wilful  person  ;  and,  1  am 
told  in  the  assembly  of"his  clerical  brethren,  if  he  could 
not  have  his  own  way,  he  would  roar  like  a  lion.  This 
irascible  divine,  now  became,  by  the  law  of  man,  not  of 
God,  the  owner  of  the  soul,  body  and  spirit  of  a  disciple  of 
him  of  whom  he  professed  to  be  a  ministering  sen-ant. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

In  which  Gilbert  continues  his  narrative. 

Although  Marian  was  freed  from  her  fetters,  she  was 
kept  closely  confined  until  the  time  of  her  departure.  She- 
was  sold  by  her  own  father,  at  a  very  high  price,  to  the 
soul-driver — one  Nathan  Sharpe,  a  wretch  who  loved  the 
wages  of  iniquity,  and  drove  his  cruel  trade  as  much  for 
the  pleasure  he  took  in  it  as  for  the  gain  it  brought  him.  Af- 
ter all  Mrs.  Sedley  could  say,  he  used  Marian  as  he  did  all 
the  rest,  with  as  much  tantalizing  tyranny  as  was  consis- 
tent with  his  own  interest.  Nathan  arrived  safely  in  New 
Orleans,  with  his  human  cargo.  This  diabolical  domestic 
slave  trade  is  more  refinedly  cruel  than  the  foreign  slave 
trade,  inasmuch  as  many  of  the  victims  of  the  traffic, 
living  in  the  more  northerly  slave  states,  have,  at  least, 
seen  what  civilization  is,  and  what  Christianity  is,  and 
therefore  feel  more  sensibly,  this  cruel  degradation  than 
the  poor  heathen  of  Africa.  Religion  makes  them  more 
alive  to  the  horrors  of  their  doom.  Marian  had  a  great 
dread  of  being  exposed  on  the  slave  block  ;  but  this  was 
prevented  by  a  private  purchaser,  who  offered  Nathan  a 
tempting  price  on  condition  that  he  should  have  her  at  pri- 
vate sale.  This  was  no  other  than  Mr.  Arthur  St.  Vallery, 
who  had  been  watching  closely,  ever  since  his  arrival,  for 
this  vessel.  It  was  on  the  day  that  he  bought  Marian,  that 
he  sold  me,  for  fear  that  I  should  discover  her,  if  retained 


121 

in  his  service.  As  soon  as  he  had  purchased  Marian,  he 
had  her  fetters  instantly  struck  off.  He  then  drove  to  a 
hotel  with  her,  and,  having  selected  a  room,  bade  her 
await  there  his  return.  Presently  after  he  left,  a  servant 
came  in  with  refreshments,  of  which,  as  Marian  was  very 
hungry,  she  eagerly  partook,  though  her  heart  was  heavy 
and  her  fears  great.  Soon,  her  new  master  appeared  with 
a  boy  bearing  a  large  bundle  and  band-box.  "  Here,1 
said  he  to  Marian,  handing  her  the  band-box  and  bundle, 
"  change  your  dress  for  these,  and  be  ready  when  I  return." 
She  opened  the  bundle  and  box,  and  found  an  elegant  suit 
of  clothing,  and  a  rich  bonnet  and  shawl.  She  arrayed 
herself  according  to  his  orders.  Though  her  new  dress 
set  off  her  beauty,  she  only  wept  when  she  saw  herself  re- 
flected in  the  large  mirror  before  her.  Her  master  return- 
ed in  a  very  short  time,  and  handed  her  into  a  splendid 
carriage  with  an  air  he  had  never  before  assumed.  They 
drove  off  to  a  certain  part  of  the  city,  where  many  ladies 
of  the  mingled  race  live  in  great  luxury.  They  stopped  at 
the  door  of  a  fine  house.  A  servant  came,  who  received 
them  with  the  utmost  respect.  Mr.  St.  Vallery  then  show- 
ed her  all  about  the  establishment ;  it  was  as  luxurious  and 
magnificent  as  taste  and  wealth  could  make  it.  Entering 
a  beautiful  room  that  looked  out  on  a  garden,  with  roses 
clustering  about  the  windows,  he  asked  her  to  sit  down, 
and  seated  himself  beside  her.  "  Now,  lovely  Marian," 
said  he,  "  this  beautiful  home  is  yours,  alv/ays,  if  you 
will  only  give  up  your  religious  scruples,  and  requite,  with 
your  love,  one  who  would  win  you  by  generosity  and  de- 
votion. I  never  saw  a  white  lady  that  had  any  heart ; 

they  fritter  it  all  away  by  false  education.     Your  greatest 
11 


122 

charm  for  me,  is  the  sensibility  I  have  vainly  sought  far 
among  my  own  race.  Kind  fortune  seemed  determined  to 
throw  you  into  my  power.  Think,  from  what  a  doom  I  have 
rescued  you,  and  try  to  love  me.  But  I  must  tell  you  the 
truth  :  I  do  not  mean  to  part  with  you  again.  All  the  servants 
here  are  select  old  slaves  of  my  father's,  devoted,  from 
their  infancy,  to  me.  To  the  care  of  two  of  the  most 
trusty  of  them,  I  have  particularly  given  you,  though  they 
will  treat  you  as  their  mistress,  with  all  deference ;  nor 
will  you  be  able  to  discover  who  they  are.  Do  not  think 
me  unkind  ;  I  am  only  resolved  not  to  lose  you.  Masters 
will  be  here  every  day  to  give  you  lessons  ;  for  I  mean  to 
have  you  accomplished,  charming  Marian.  Especially 
your  rich  musical  talent  must  be  cultivated.  Nor  do  I 
mean  you  shall  be  dull  here.  I  shall  take  you  to  public 
places,  and  give  you  pleasant  drives."  Marian  thought, 
all  the  while  Arthur  was  talking,  of  the  scene  of  our  Sa- 
viour's temptations.  "  All  this  will  I  give  thee,"  &c.  Ah, 

thought  she,  now  indeed  am  I  passing  through  the  furnace. 

******* 

I  return  now  to  my  own  personal  history.  My  new 
Master  took  me  to  his  new  plantation  on  the  river.  He 
was  the  most  domineering  tyrant  I  ever  knew,  but  oh  ! 
strange  to  tell,  he  could  preach  grandly.  He  had  read  a 
great  deal,  had  strong  passions,  and  a  rich  imagination, 
and  his  language  was  very  fluent,  especially  when  he  had 
recently  refreshed  himself  with  wine.  He  was  extremely 
popular,  and  made  his  hearers  pay  him  handsomely,  for 
he  loved  gain,  because  it  added  to  his  pleasures.  His  table 
was  spread  with  every  luxury.  He  had  married,  for  her 
wealth,  a  woman  whom  he  had  made  only  less  submissive 


123 

than  his  slaves.  Yet  this  man  would  preach  up  giving  up 
all  for  Christ,  support  of  missions,  and  such  matters,  with 
great  effect  I  have  set  up  in  the  gallery  and  wondered 
to  see  how  the  people  devoured  his  words.  He  would 
sometimes  expatiate  about  this  country,  as  if  this  New 
Ninevah  were  the  delight  of  the  Lord,  holy,  honorable. 
The  place  of  his  feet,  which  he  would  make  glorious. 
Surely,  thought  I,  God  has  given  up  this  generation  to 
strong  delusion,  to  believe  a  lie.  All  the  time  he  kept  us 
smarting  and  toiling  under  the  lash.  Many  slaves  were 
compelled  to  run  away  from  his  unbearable  severity  ;  but 
horrible  was  the  fate  of  the  poor  wretch  who  was  caught 
and  returned  to  him.  He  was  inexorable,  and  seemed  to 
let  loose  all  the  strong  ferocity  of  his  nature,  upon  his  vic- 
tim. He  kept  a  pack  of  hounds  to  catch  run-a-ways,  whom 
he  was  pleased  to  style  Taylor  warriors.  I  had  been 
there  some  little  time,  when,  one  Saturday  night,  he  sum- 
moned us  all,  and  ordered  us,  one  and  all  to  attend  church, 
Sunday,  as  he  had  something  to  read  to  us,  and  should 
preach  especially  to  MS,  and  if  any  one  of  us  failed  to  be 
there,  or  being  there,  fell  asleep,  we  should  receive  one 
hundred  lashes. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

In  which  Gilbert  continues  his  narrative. 

As  to  what  was  transpiring  in  the  great  world  without  us, 
on  this  plantation  we  knew  nothing.  Here  was  one  con- 
tinual Reign  of  Terror  ;  but,  at  my  former  Master's,  I  read 
the  news-papers  and  knew  that  Congress  was  shaken  like 
a  political  Vesuvius,  with  Anti-slavery  agitation.  My  fears 
far  exceeded  my  hopes.  The  omnipotence  of  the  slave 
power  was  fully  appreciated  by  me,  for,  it  had  sat  as  God 
before  me,  exalting  itself  above  all  that  is  called  God,  ever 
since  I  had  a  being.  Yet  I  longed  and  panted  to  hear 
a  more  near  and  certain  sound  of  the  trump  of  the  Anti- 
Slavery  Evangel.  But  I  was  now  a  captive  indeed.  Sab- 
bath morning  came.  As  we  went  to  church,  I  observed  an 
unusual  gathering  about  the  door.  There  was  a  general 
appearance  of  excitement  and  animation,  that  depressed 
me  at  once.  For  triumph  in  the  master's  countenance  is 
always  a  sign  of  sorrow  to  the  slave.  We  pay  for  all 
their  joys.  I  observed  that  my  master,  especially,  was 
perfectly  elated.  We  entered  the  house,  and  took  our  seats. 
My  Master's  text  was — "  For  perhaps  he  departed  from 
thce  for  a  season,  that  thou  shouldest  receive  him  for- 
ever." 

"  The  day  has  arrived,"  said  he,  "  when  the  triumph  of 
the  gospel  is  complete  and  glorious.  I  have  often  told  you 
of  its  triumphs  in  China,  in  Hindostan,  in  the  islands  of 


125 

the  sea.  I  have  now  to  announce  to  you  its  illustrious 
achievements  in  our  own  beloved  country.  The  fraternal 
rights  of  the  South,  so  long  invaded,  have  been  vindicated 
and  acknowledged.  True,  the  Lord  has  removed  from  us 
our  national  Joshua, — General  Taylor,  and  our  Southern 
prophet — John  C.  Calhoun ;  but  he  has  wrought  marvel- 
ously  in  raising  up  for  our  Southern  Israel,  Webster,  Cass 
and  Clay,  like  a  three-fold  flame  of  fire,  enfolding  us  round 
about  The  Fugitive  Slave  Law,  nourished  by  their  words 
of  life,  is  now  at  length  baptized  by  the  sanction  of  Milliard 
Fillimore  ;  blessed  be  he.  A  northern  man,  yet  a  man 
whose  name  shall  be  handed  down  to  remotest  ages,  as 
the  man  who  extinguished  forever,  the  slave's  last  hope  of 
liberty,  and  crushed  out  the  last  spark  of  his  political  exist- 
ence,'by  taking  from  him  the  right  of  trial  by  jury,  so  un- 
justly claimed  for  a  chattel.  Our  run-a-way  slaves,  who 
have  so  long  found  protection  among  northern  thieves,  can 
no  more  insult  our  authority.  I  want  you,  servants,  to  at- 
tend while  I  read  and  expound  to  you  this  glorious  law, 
which,  if  you  did  but  know  it,  is  as  wholesome  for  you,  as 
advantageous  to  ourselves."  So  saying,  he  read  the  law, 
expatiating  upon,  and  explaining  to  us,  all  its  accursed 
provisions — evincing  the  highest  gratification  all  the  while. 
"  This  law,"  said  he.  "  is  a  new  and  striking  proof^  that 
the  children  of  Ham  are  to  be  servants  forever.  And  now, 
if  you  run  away,  I  will  tell  you  your  fate.  If  you  escape 
the  quick  scent  of  our  keen  and  faithful  blood-hounds,  if 
you  safely  thread  the  morasses,  scale  the  mountains,  and 
finally  reach  some  northern  city,  there  our  dear  northern 
brothers,  recalled  by  that  great  Apostle,  Daniel  Webster, 

to  their  Christian  duties,  shall  arise  against  you,  and  return 
11* 


126 

you  back  to  be  punished  with  the  most  extreme  tortures 
it  may  be  our  pleasure  to  inflict.  Go  into  their  cities — 
those  houses,  homes  for  them,  are  prisons  for  you,  ye  fly- 
ing vagabonds.  Go  to  the  church,  and  the  very  priest  at 
the  altar  is  pledged  to  restore  you  ;  yea,  the  heads  of  the 
sanctuary  shall  cry,  restore  him  to  his  master.  Will  you 
go  to  the  Abolitionists  ?— the  cowards  will  tell  you  they  are 
peace-men,  and  cannot  protect  you.  The  whole  amount 
of  their  resistance  to  the  law,  will  be  tame  declarations 
that  they  will  not  obey  it. 

I  admire  to  see  how  snugly  the  game  is  arranged.  The 
peace  men  cry  out  disunion,  but  refuse  to  act  politically, 
so  that  their  cry  is  but  the  ghost  of  their  discontent ;  the 
political  abolitionist  dares  not  touch  the  Union,  or  away 
goes  his  party.  None  of  them  have  the  hardihood  to  form 
a  disunion  political  party,  because  they  know  the  people 
are  for  the  union,  and  as  long  as  we  have  the  union,  our 
institutions  are  safe.  Between  the  two  abolition  factions, 
we  southerners  are  safe  from  any  thing  but  noise  ;  never 
mind  their  talk — hard  words  break  no  bones.  The  cun- 
ning creatures  love  excitement,  but  will  never  risk  their 
own  vines  and  fig-trees.  We  are  constantly  gaining  on 
them,  because  they  have  no  real  earnestness  in  their  cause 
and  we  have.  Will  the  run-a-way  go  to  his  own  people  ? 
They  are  a  despised  minority,  trodden  under  foot  of  men, 
and  the  first  drop  of  white  men's  blood  they  should  shed, 
would  rouse  against  them  the  most  maddened  rage  of  the 
populace.  Wretched  fugitive,  God  and  man  are  against 
you  !  The  whole  military  force  of  the  nation  is  against 
you.  The  spirit  of  the  nation  is  against  you.  If  you  flee, 
you  will  surely  be  returned  to  us,  and  as  surely  meet  ex- 


127 

emplary  punishment.     No  hope  now,  thank  God,  no  hope 
now  !     From  the  farthest  southern   plantation,   I  see   the 
hitherto  rebellious  slave,  as  he  hears  the  law  thundering  its 
inexorable  fiat   in  his  ears.     I  see  him    fold  his   hands  in 
despair  !  he  is  compelled  by  its  iron  rod   to  keep  down  his 
rebellious  will,  and  submit  to  the  lot  a  just  God  has  assign- 
ed him.     No  more,  no  more  shall  we  have  to  endure  your 
increasing  insolence  ;  the  power  of  a  great  people  holds  you 
down.     It  is  not  your  masters  alone,  but  the  whole  nation 
are  your  keepers.     I  look  now  for  great  revivals  and  peace 
upon  Israel.  "Happy  is  that  people,  yea  happy  is  that  peo- 
ple whose  God  is  the  Lord."     Nor  should  you  repine  at 
your  inevitable  lot,   ye  children  of  Ham,  for  though  Christ 
took  away  the  curse  from  all  creation  beside,  he  excepted 
you,  as  your  present  condition  shows,  still  bound  down  by 
the  curse  of  Noah.     Submit  then  to  be  hewers  of  wood  and 
drawers  of  water  to  this  elect   nation,  this    modern  Israel, 
without  any  more  struggles.  And  you  beloved  white  breth- 
ren, now  having  your  property  secured,  can  aid  more  easi- 
ly in  evangelizing  the  heathen  and  supporting  your  pastor, 
so  that  you  may  have  it  said  to  you  in  the  great  day,  '  In- 
asmuch as  ye  have  done  it  to  one  of  the  least  of  these,  my 
brethren,  ye  have  done  it  unto  me.'  Amen."     I  know  not 
what  my  poor  companions  in  bonds  felt,  while  listening  to 
this  sermon,  but  I  do  know  it  effectually  roused  my  whole 
manhood  within   me.     I  loathed  the    Anglo-Saxon  blood 
within  my  veins,  and  vowed  to   marry  only    one  of  pure 
African  descent.     Had  I  not  have  known    for   myself  the 
power  of  a  loving  Saviour  to  forgive  sin,  this    man  would 
have  driven  me  away  from   the    Christian  religion,   as  he 
stood  forth  its  professed  representative   and   expounder  ; 


128 

but  thank  God,  I  knew  better  things  ;  I  knew  a  Saviour  who 
has  chosen  the  poor  of  this  world  rich  in  faith,  and  heirs  of 
the  kingdom.  I  knew  who  was  like  a  brother  to  all  man- 
kind. I  knew  who  had  forbidden  his  disciples  to  bear  rule 
over  one  another,  and  exercise  authority,  like  the  Gentiles. 
I  knew  who  preached  equal  and  universal  brotherhood,  if 
he  preached  anything.  I  did  not  mind  what  the  man  said 
about  Ham's  curse,  while  my  soul  was  rich  with  Christ's 
blessing.  The  more  he  preached  that  law  of  hell  to  drive 
me  to  despair,  the  more  my  soul  rose  to  strength,  Chris- 
tian humility  is  a  deep  submission  of  the  soul  to  Christ,  un- 
der a  true  feeling  of  our  unworthiness  and  helplessness. 
It  is  not  tame  servility  to  those  whom  the  accidents  of  for- 
tune have  placed  above  us.  That  servility  was  against 
true  humility,  exacting  for  man  that  homage  due  only  to 
the  Redeemer.  True  humility  condescends  to  the  lowly, 
but  never  fawns  upon  the  great.  Slavery,  the  parent  of 
servile  fear,  is  not  adapted  to  bring  forth  true  humility,  be- 
cause true  humility  is  a  child  of  the  love  that  casteth  out 
fear.  If  slaves  are  ever  truly  humble,  it  is  because  they 
are  Christians,  not  because  they  are  slaves.  They  are 
usually  better  Christians  than  white  men,  because  they  are 
more  child-like  and  loving  in  their  natures  than  the  whites. 
1  will  give  an  instance  of  Christian  humility,  that  is,  of  a 
man  whose  will  was  wholly  lost  in  God's  will.  A  poor 
Christian  slave,  whose  back  was  never  healed  from  stripes, 
was  divinely  impressed  with  a  duty  to  go  to  a  company  of 
slave-holders,*  who  were  taking  the  Lord's  Supper,  in  a 
grove,  and  say  to  them,  '  gentlemen  and  ladies,  you  are 
eating  and  drinking  damnation  to  your  own  souls.'  Al- 

*  Fact. 


129 

though  this  might  be  death  to  him,  so  entirely  was  his  will 
humbled  to  God's  will,  that  he  performed  that  difficult  du- 
ty. And  that  was  Christian  humility  ? 

The  next  day  my  master  gave  an  entertainment,  and 
brilliantly  illuminated  his  villa,  in  honor  of  the  passage  of 
the  Fugitive  Slave  Law.  In  front,  was  a  transparency  repre- 
senting the  Gods  of  the  new  dispensation  of  death,  Web- 
ster, Cass  and  Clay.  On  one  side  of  this  was  another 
transparency  an  officer,  with  a  slave  under  arrest,  and  a 
clergyman,  out  of  whose  mouth  came  a  scroll,  '  peace  on 
earth,  good  will  to  men;'  on  the  other  side  were  two  female 
figures,  embracing  each  other;  back  of  the  one  was  a  cot- 
ton field  with  negroes  at  work  ;  in  the  back  ground  of  the 
other  were  cotton  bags,  and  factories  in  operation.  The 
motto  was  this  felicitous  transposition  of  scripture  :  "  Righ- 
teousness and  peace  have  met  together — the  North  and  the 
South  have  kissed  each  other." 

Our  master,  in  order  to  give  due  honor  to  the  occasion, 
ordered  every  negro  hut  to  be  illuminated,  and  made  us  all 
keep  holiday,  or  holinight.  It  was  a  holy  night  to  me,  for 
in  the  thickest  of  the  fun,  I  made  out  to  slip  off,  although 
an  extra  watch  was  kept.  But  as  in  the  days  of  old, 
when  a  similar  feast  was  held,  through  the  drunkenness  of 
the  guards,  the  gates  were  not  well  kept.  I  know  not  that 
any  of  my  fellow-slaves  embraced  the  chance  for  escape. 
I  dared  not  trust  any  of  them  with  my  plan.  I  crawled 
along  on  my  hands  and  knees,  where  three  or  four  drunk- 
en ones  of  the  patrol  were  around  a  bowl  of  punch.  Be- 
ing a  new  hand,  I  was  not  known  to  them.  I  seated  my- 
self among  them,  without  exciting  much  notice.  Here, 
said  I,  give  us  something  good  ;  I  have  been  keeping 


130 

guard  up  yonder  alone.  I  have  flogged  two  niggers  I 
caught  outside,  and  1  am  confoundedly  tired.  Do  give  me 
some  punch  and  let  me  go  back.  Give  him  some,  said 
one,  and  let  him  go,  it  will  make  him  strong  to  lick  some 
more  of  these  d — d  niggers.  So  I  pretended  to  take  seve- 
ral hearty  swigs,  and  bidding  tham  good  night,  passed  on 
slowly,  at  first,  and  as  soon  as  I  was  out  of  their  sight, 
going  off  at  the  top  of  my  speed.  I  traveled  all  that  night, 
unmolested.  In  the  morning,  I  took  to  the  woods,  scatter- 
ing some  fresh  meat  hither  and  thither,  in  order  to  mislead 
the  dogs.  I  chose  the  highest  of  the  lofty  trees,  and  as- 
cended to  the  summit.  Here  I  fastened  myself.  I  can 
tell  Daniel  Webster,  the  man  who  sees  furthest  and  occu- 
pies the  most  favorable  position  for  taking  a  true  view  of 
the  slavery  question,  is  not  the  statesman  at  his  desk,  but 
the  poor  fugitive,  at  the  top  of  a  lofty  tree,  his  ear  strain- 
ing to  hear,  lest  the  fearful  blood-hound  be  on  his  track, 
and  the  more  fell  master  behind  him,  cruel  as  "  the  even- 
ing wolves."  I  could  tell  him  how  clearly  I  saw  from  that 
high  station,  that  he  who  achieves  his  own  liberty  is  more 
justly  a  freeman,  than  he  with  whom  liberty  is  hereditary. 
I  would  ask  him  by  what  right  they  who  only  inherit  lib- 
erty, take  it  from  him  who  has  won  it  single-handed,  ma- 
king hounds,  wolves,  forests,  mountains,  rivers,  yield  to  his 
noble  will,  to  be  Free  !  !  No,  instead  of  oppressing,  let 
them  learn  to  respect  the  new  Heroes  of  a  race  in  whom 
their  oppressions  have  roused  the  first  spark  of  liberty's  un- 
dying flame.  In  the  night,  I  turned  my  course  to  the  city  of 
New  Orleans.  This  may  appear  strange,  but  my  plans  had 
been  long  formed.  I  determined  not  to  escape  without 


131 

my  dear  sister  ;  and  by  this  time,  by  putting  things  togeth- 
er, I  surmised  where  she  was,  and  in  whose  power. 

While  I  was  in  the  service  of  Mr.  St.  Vallery,  we  led  a 
wild,  irregular  life.  I  often  attended  him  to  masquerade 
balls  and  to  masquerading  frolics,  and  had  learnt  many 
arts  of  disguise.  This  knowledge  I  designed  now  to  put 
in  use  ;  but  more  of  this  in  time.  There  was  a  certain 
free  colored  man  with  whom  I  became  acquainted.  He 
was  wealthy,  but  secret  about  it  as  a  Jew,  under  the  ter- 
ror of  the  Inquisition.  He  was  a  sort  of  universal  genius, 
in  his  own  way  ;  his  main  business  was  to  keep  a  confec- 
tioner's and  pastry  cook's  shop.  He  also  prepared  suppers, 
gave  balls,  &c.  Although  he  had  his  faults,  he  had  one 
good  quality,  he  was  a  true  friend  to  the  slaves.  He  was 
so  cunning  and  shrewd,  no  one  ever  suspected  him,  and 
he  had  a  rare  tact  of  discovering  to  whom  he  might  trust. 
He  had  the  supple,  thrifty  humility  of  some  Jewish  ped- 
lar. I  knew  that  he  sat  up  late,  and  after  reconnoitering, 
and  finding  his  family  had  retired,  I  knocked  at  the  door 
of  his  shop,  and  he  came.  He  looked  surprised  at  seeing 
me,  but  in  a  suppressed  voice,  bade  me  walk  in.  He 
carefully  locked  the  door  after  me.  I  told  him  at  once 
frankly,  my  situation,  and  my  plans  with  regard  to  my- 
self and  my  sister.  Says  he,  Gibby,  I  take  you  to  be  a 
prudent  fellow,  and  think  that  you  understand  yourself, 
and  I  will  help  you,  but  you  must  work  while  you  are 
here,  and  put  up  with  a  small  place  to  work  and  live  in. 

So  he  took  me  behind  the  counter,  and  by  a  secret 
spring,  opened  the  door  of  a  very  small  room,  or  a  sort  of 
floored  cellar  ;  the  door  on  the  outside  was  not  discovera- 
ble, it  looked  only  like  a  part  of  the  wainscot;  here  was 


132 

only  a  very  small  window  to  admit  light,  and  that  curtain- 
ed. There  was  a  little  couch  here,  a  table  and  ehair. 
There  were  certain  crevices  in  the  wall  through  which  I 
could  see  the  customers  and  doings,  unperceived.  Here 
then  I  retired,  but  not  till  after  my  hospitable  friend  had 
given  me  a  plentiful  supper.  The  room  was  dismal  enough, 
but  I  had  such  a  feeling  of  safety  when  comparing  it  with 
my  last  night's  lodging  on  a  tree,  that  it  seemed  pleasant 
in  comparison.  I  knew  New  Orleans  was  the  last  place 
in  which  my  master  would  seek  for  me.  I  slept  soundly. 
In  the  morning  when  I  awoke,  I  thanked  God,  and  took 
courage.  My  friend  soon  came  in  with  my  breakfast,  and 
told  me  my  business.  It  was  to  write  for  him,  as  I  had 
gained  some  knowledge  of  writing  and  accounts  at  odd 
times.  He  was  often  hurried  and  was  glad  of  my  help. 
My  faithful  friend  told  me  at  night,  that  there  were  pla- 
cards up  all  over  the  city,  advertising  me,  and  offering  a 
large  reward,  and  advised  me  to  remain  quiet  till  the  heat 
of  the  pursuit  was  over.  My  protector  remained  unsus- 
pected ;  but  one  day  I  was  much  alarmed  at  hearing  my 
master's  voice,  in  the  shop.  He  purchased  some  confec- 
tionery, and  while  my  friend  was  putting  it  up,  he  says  : 

"  Did  you  ever  see  that  rascal,  Gibby,  when  he  was  St. 
Vallery's  servant  ?" 

"  Perhaps  I  may  have  seen  him,"  said  my  friend,  "  but 
not  to  notice  him  much,  I  see  so  many  in  the  run  of  the 
day.  Was  he  a  short,  thick  negro,  and  very  black  ?  " 

"  No,  no,"  says  his  reverence,  "he  is  a  tall,  well-made 
scoundrel,  and  very  light." 

"  Oh  !  I  guess  I  have  seen  him  ;  didn't  he  have  a  scar 
on  his  cheek,  just  below  the  eye,  and  a  sort  of  grin,  al- 
ways ?  " 


133 

"  No,  no,  you  don't  know  him,  but  I  am  thinking  he  will 
know  when  I  catch  him,  as  I  expect  to,  shortly,  thanks  to 
the  blessed  Fugitive  Slave  Law.  If  I  could  anticipate  his 
eternal  doom,  I  would,  but  I  will  do  my  best  to  give  him  a 
burning  foretaste  of  it.  I  will  make  him  a  terrible  warn- 
ing to  all  the  rest."  Just  then  Mr.  St.  Vallery  himself 
came  in,  and  after  shaking  hands,  for  they  were  acquaint- 
ed, he  told  him  that  he  had  lost  his  slave,  Gibby. 

"  Indeed,"  said  Mr.  St.  Vallery,  "  I  presume  he  has 
gone  to  New  England." 

"  If  he  has,"  said  the  parson,  "  the  Fugitive  Law  will 
help  me  to  head  him  there." 

"  I  hear,"  said  St.  Vallery,  "  that  public  sentiment  in 
New  England,  is  decidedly  against  the  law." 

"  Public  sentiment,"  said  the  Reverend  Doctor,  "  what 
is  the  Anti-Slavery  public  sentiment  of  New  England  ?  a 
mere  bubble  on  the  surface." 

"  While  the  cold  heart,  to  dollars  runs  darkly  the  while," 
said  St.  Vallery. 

"  You  have  it,"  "  responded  the  Parson,  the  soul  of  the 
north  is  with  us,  while  the  trade  is  good,  for  you  know, 
and  everybody  knows  that  all  the  northerners  care  for,  is 
speculation,  cheating,  and  a  brisk  trade.  This  talk  about 
humanity  and  slavery,  is  a  sort  of  holiday  concern  with 
them,  got  up  to  get  off  speeches,  sell  newspapers,  and  gar- 
nish Thanksgiving  Sermons.  The  politicians  also  make 
use  of  it,  to  grease  the  wheels  of  their  political  machinery, 
and  although  a  handful  of  poor,  sincere,  lunatic  rascals 
are  going  mad  about  it,  yet  every  sane  person  in  New 
England,  lumps  them  up  with  Millerites  and  Mormonites  ; 

depend  upon   it,  sir,  the  mass  of  the  northerners   are  but 
12 


134 

too  happy  to  be  our  whippers-in,  if  they  can  but  carry  the 
trade.  They  may  indulge  a  little,  in  their  hereditary  pu- 
ritan cant,  but  the  dollar  is  the  real  thing  with  them,  after 
all." 

Thus  talking,  to  my  great  relief,  the  two  gentlemen  left 
(lie  shop.  The  unsuspicious  character  of  my  former  mas- 
ter, Arthur  St.  Vallery,  was  greatly  in  my  favor  now,  for 
it  never  occurred  to  him,  that  I  might  be  lurking  about  the 
city,  supposing  Marian  to  be  in  New  Orleans.  My  friend 
soon  found  means,  through  a  servant  of  St.  Vallery's,  to 
find  out  where  my  sister  was  residing.  He  said  she  was 
living  in  style,  and  rode  out  every  day.  My  heart  trem- 
bled, for  fear  she  had  lost  her  innocence.  Among  the  oc- 
casional lodgers  at  this  house,  there  was  one  who  brought 
many  choice  jewels  and  rich  goods  with  him.  We  knew 
nothing,  but  somewhat  suspected  his  honesty.  Every  now 
and  then,  he  would  come  in  drunk,  bring  a  large  jug,  and 
remain  there  drunk,  for  a  day  or  two.  I  conceived  a  bold 
project,  by  which  I  could  make  this  man's  failing  subser- 
vient to  my  design.  I  ccmmunicated  the  plan  to  my 
friend,  who  approved  the  design,  because  he  had  such  an 
opinion  of  my  sagacity,  he  doubted  not  that  I  could  carry 
it  out  safely.  Pursuit  had  ceased  in  the  vicinity  ;  the 
placards  were  all  down.  I  heard  just  then  most  opportune- 
ly that  Mr.  St.  Vallery  was  gone  from  the  city  for  a  few 
days.  I  immediately  put  into  play  the  masquerading  skill 
which  I  had  acquired,  by  using  a  kind  of  wash  which  gave 
to  my  face  a  reddish  tinge,  and  putting  on  a  wig  of  straight, 
black  hair,  I  being  naturally  tall  and  straight,  transformed 
myself  into  a  tolerable  Indian.  I  was  very  imitative,  and 
readily  counterfeited  thelndian  manner.  I  also  wore  a 


135 

slouched  hat  pretty  well  down  over  my  eyes.  So  disguis- 
ed I  put  within  a  large  market-basket  a  smaller  one,  with 
some  fine  fruit,  and  a  note  inside  counterfeiting  St.  Val- 
lery's  hand-writing,  directed  to  Marian,  saying  that  a  travel- 
ing merchant  would  be  there,  that  she  must  be  ready  to 
see  him  alone,  as  he  would  be  the  bearer  of  a  particular 
message  from  him,  and  some  rich  jewelry  for  her  to  look 
at  and  purchase  if  she  pleased.  Then  I  covered,  and  seal- 
ed down  the  basket,  directing  it  to  the  house  where  she 
lived.  Thus  equipped,  1  went  into  the  street,  took  a  few 
turns,  went  into  a  market,  bought  a  few  little  matters,  anil 
put  them  into  my  large  basket ;  then  going  out,  calle<! 
upon  a  boy  who  seemed  to  be  hanging  about  the  purlieus 
of  the  place,  and  said,  Irere  is  a  gentleman  wants  you  to 
take  this  small  basket  to  Madam  St.  Vallery,  such  a  street, 
(naming  the  place.) 

The  boy  went  one  way,  I  took  another,  and  had  the  sat- 
isfaction to  see  him  deliver  it  at  the  door.  1  never  before 
or  since  wanted  to  see  a  man  drunk,  and  I  did  not  then  so 
desire  it,  but  what  I  would  have  prevented  it  if  possible, 
though  my  scheme  had  failed.  But  in  he  came  about  the 
middle  of  the  forenoon,  went  up  to  his  room  with  his  pack 
and  jug,  and  was  soon  in  a  profound  sleep.  I  left  my  hid- 
ing place  cautiously,  went  softly  to  his  room,  took  his  pack 
and  traveling  coat  and  went  to  my  sister's,  a  spruce  travel- 
ing merchant  with  immense  whiskers,  green  spectacles  ;  in 
short,  completely  disguised.  Oh  !  how  my  heart  beat  with 
apprehension.  But  my  chief  fears  were  for  my  sister. 
If  her  faith  had  failed  her,  if  her  purity  had  gone,  life  was 
henceforth  a  blank  to  me.  These  fears  increased  when  I 
came  to  the  fine  mansion  where  she  now  lived,  and  when 


136 

the  servant,  with  respect,  ushered  me  into  the  richly  fur- 
nished apartment  where  his  mistress  was.  She  was  prac- 
tising at  her  piano  when  I  went  in.  She  appeared  entire- 
ly unconscious  who  I  was,  but  received  me  pleasantly. 
But  as  she  was  looking  at  the  jewels,  I  took  off  my  specta- 
cles, and  looked  up  earnestly  in  her  face.  She  knew  me 
at  once  !  the  blood  forsook  her  face  ;  but  she  rallied  with 
admirable  self-control,  suffering  not  a  word  to  escape  her 
lips  ;  I  felt  she  was  true.  I  slipt  a  note  into  her  hand  and 
a  phial  ;  I  also  left  her,  nicely  done  up  in  paper,  as  if  it  were 
one  of  the  rich  silks  I  had  brought  in,  a  masculine  dress  ; 
then  silently  lifting  up  my  hands  to  God,  I  took  up  my 
pack  and  went  back  to  my  retreat,  took  off  the  pedlar's 
pack  and  coat  and  restored  it  to  its  place,  and  went  zeal- 
ously about  preparing  for  my  flight.  My  dear  sister  after- 
wards gave  me  this  account  of  what  took  place  after  I  left 
her  ;  T  give  her  own  words. 

"  I  had  now,"  said  she,  "  to  pray,  as  only  those  pray 
who  are  in  extremity.  Before,  I  had  escaped  under  your 
direction,  dear  Gilbert;  but  now,  my  first  steps  must  be  ta- 
ken alone.  I  knew  from  St.  Vallery,  that  two  of  the  ser- 
vants were  particular  spies  upon  me.  I  had  observed  care- 
fully and  found  out  who  they  were,  though  he  told  me  I 
could  not.  My  first  business  was  to  get  rid  of  these,  with- 
out either  spy  knowing  that  the  other  was  absent.  So  I 
called  one  of  the  spies,  who  was  both  house-keeper  and  laun- 
dry woman,  about  evening,  and  says  to  her:  '  Do,  Aunty, 
put  my  drawers  and  closets  and  boxes  in  nice  order,  and 
if  you  see  a  stitch  wanting  in  any  thing,  repair  it,  for  Mr. 
St.  Vallery  comes  home  tonight,  and  I  am  going  a  journey 
soon.'  Then  when  she  was  fairly  engaged  in  the  work,  I 


137 

said:  'There,  Aunty,  I  forgot  to  show  William  about  those 
flowers.'  Away  I  ran  down  to  the  kitchen  ;  there  was  the 
other  spy,  1  said  to  him:  '  I  entirely  forgot  till  this  mo- 
ment that  Mr.  St.  Vallery  may  return  this  evening  in  the 
cars  and  will  expect  you  to  be  at  the  depot.'  I  tried  not 
to  tell  any  wrong  stories  about  it,  but  kept  as  near  the 
truth  as  I  could. 

"  Where  is  Mrs. ?"  said  the  man. 

"  Oh  !  Aunty  ?  she  is  up  stairs  with  me,  do  hurry."  As 
soon  as  he  was  gone  I  ran  on,  gave  directions  to  William, 
to  be  as  good  as  my  word,  and  then  went  to  the  summer 
house,  locked  the  door,  colored  my  skin  with  the  stuff  in 
the  phial,  put  on  my  masculine  dress,  threw  my  clothes  in  a 
large  pond,  and  then  scaled  the  garden  wall.  This  was 
the  substance  of  her  story .  Judge  my  joy  when  my  dear 
Marian  entered  the  little  room  where  I  was.  Joy,  grati- 
tude and  fear  struggled  within  us.  But  we  were  obliged 
to  suppress  every  feeling. 

I  was  to  pass  as  an  Indian  Doctor,  going  north  with  my 
brother,  with  roots,  herbs,  medicines,  &c.  As  my  mother 
had  been  a  doctress,  I  had  no  difficulty  in  setting  up  in  my 
new  profession.  Our  passage  had  been  engaged  by  our 
friend,  in  a  vessel  bound  to  Philadelphia.  The  vessel  was 
to  sail  that  night,  as  the  wind  was  fair  and  the  cargo  near- 
ly all  in.  We  went  on  board  at  ten  o'clock,  and  at  twelve 
the  vessel  sailed.  We  had  a  rough  passage,  which  was 
an  excellent  thing  for  us,  as  sea-sickness  gave  us  a  good 
excuse  for  keeping  still  in  our  births.  When  we  could 
have  a  few  moments  alone,  we  improved  them  in  pleasant 
mutual  conference.  I  found  that  my  sister  had  been  won- 
derfully preserved.  She  said  St.  Vallery  had  treated  her 
12* 


138 

with  great  consideration  and  delicacy.  She  believed  God 
had  governed  his  conduct,  in  answer  to  her  prayers.  But 
she  told  me  this  last  time  he  went  into  the  country,  he  told 
her,  before  he  went,  that  he  had  hitherto  taken  no  advan- 
tage of  his  position,  because  he  hoped  to  win  her  to  love 
him  ;  but  he  should  no  longer  indulge  her  whims  and  su- 
perstitions as  he  had  done  ;  that  she  had  been  in  his  house 
for  a  long  time,  and  lie  had  not  received  from  her  even 
the  indulgence  of  one  word  indicating  affection,  and  he 
believed  her  superstition  was  in  the  way  of  her  happiness. 
She  told  me,  the  very  morning  I  came,  she  had  been  pon- 
dering what  to  do,  and  being  much  deprest,  had  sought 
relief  from  music,  when  I  came  in.  On  arriving  at  Phila- 
delphia, we  got  a  directory,  and  found  where  a  certain 
friend  lived,  whom  1  had  seen  at  the  house  of  Jonas  Free- 
man. We  immediately  proceeded  to  the  house.  Never 
shall  I  forget  the  mild,  benignant  aspect  of  the  woman 
who  herself  received  us  at  the  door.  In  a  few  words  we 
told  her  who  we  were.  She  left  us  in  the  hall  a  few  mo- 
ments and  returned  with  her  husband.  "  Come  in — you 
are  with  friends,"  said  he.  I  never  can  describe,  in  suit- 
able words,  the  sympathy  of  this  affectionate  family.  Our 
friends  told  us  it  would  be  most  safe  for  us  to  leave  the 
city  that  evening,  as  the  place  was  full  of  excitement 
about  the  new  hav,  and  many  kidnappers  were  abroad. 
They  took  us  at  once  into  their  family  circle.  My  sister 
retired,  and  returned  in  woman's  attire.  The  females  now 
regarded  her  with  great  sympathy.  Oh!  said  the  mother, 
what  a  country  is  this,  when  a  young,  lovely  female  like 
this,  who  requires  so  much  tenderness,  must  be  driven  like 
a  timid  fawn,  flying  from  the  chase  before  the  face  of 


139 

this  cruel  law  ;  and   yet  how  choice  of  their  own  are  the 
persecutors.  One  of  the  daughters,  who  seemed  to  be  a  per- 
soiVof  much  religious  reflection,  observed  that  often-times 
the  Sacred  Seers,  prophesying  of  one  nation  and  time,  have 
an  embryo-reach,  or  reference  to  another  nation  and  people, 
yet  to  be  ;  and  she  could  not  but  feel  that  many  ancient 
scriptures  and  prophecies,  have  respect  to  this  country,  in 
that  way  ;  the  youngest,  and  for  its  age  and  circumstances, 
the  most  corrupt,  and   probably  the   last  of  human  Em- 
pires.    "  This  passage,"  said  she,  turning  to  Obadiah  4th 
verse,    certainly  seems  to  contain   a  striking  reference  to 
our    new    Assyria  : — "  Though    thou    exalt  thyself  as  the 
EAGLE,  and  set  thy  nest  among  the   STARS,  thence  will  I 
bring  thee  down,  saith  the  Lord."     Here  is  another  passage 
which  shows  how  the  Lord  regarded   the   mingled  cruelty 
and  selfish  domestic  affection  of  the  Assyrian  tyrants,  and 
be   assured  he   thus  regards  the   selfishness  and  cruelty 
which  marks  our  American  policy,  in  our  Florida  and  Mex- 
ican wars,  and  our  Fugitive  Slave  Law.     The  passage   I 
refer  to,  is  in  Habbakuk,  and  though  spoken  of  the  Assyr- 
ian  Lion,  will  apply   to  that  bird,  "  sharp   of  beak  and 
strong  of  pinion,"  which  flapped  its  wings  over  the  burning 
bones  of  infants,  and  virgins  and  matrons,  at  Monterey  and 
Vera-Cruz ;  the  passage  reads  thus  : — "  The  Lion  did  tear 
in  pieces  enough  for  his  whelps,  and  strangled  for  his  lion- 
esses, and  filled  his  holes  with  prey,  and  his  dens  with  ra- 
vin." 

These  friends  were  fond  of  studying  phrenology  ;  they 
showed  us  many  pictures  of  modern  great  men ;  among 
them,  of  one  adversary  of  our  race.  But  I  could  not  but 
observe  the  shape  of  the  eye,  like  that  of  the  cat  kind,  and 
its  sleepy  ferocity,  like  that  of  a  tiger  at  rest. 


140 

Too  soon  the  hour  arrived  when  we  were  to  leave  this 
sympathizing  family,  for  a  world  armed  against  us  ;  for 
these  are  the  days  when  the  brother  shall  betray  the  bro- 
ther to  death.  Poor  Marian  looked  pale  and  affrighted, 
but  these  good  people  said  all  they  could  to  comfort  her. 
They  gave  us  a  letter  to  a  hospitable  colored  family  in 
New  York.  They  gave  us  money  and  clothing  and  their 
blessing.  We  then  sat  awhile  in  silent  prayer,  which  we 
found  to  be  sweet  and  seasonable  ;  and  taking  our  leave, 
were  soon  on  our  way  to  the  great  and  wicked  city  of 
New  York,  where  pride  and  poverty,  luxury  and  wealth 
are  struggling  together  in  fierce  spiritual  collision,  so  that 
the  smoke  and  heat  of  the  contest  makes  thick  and  heavy 
the  air  our  spirits  breathe.  On  arriving,  we  drove  to  the 
house  of  the  colored  friends.  We  found,  to  our  alarm 
and  regret,  that  the  family  had  sold  out  and  gone  to  Can- 
ada, having  been  threatened  with  a  law-suit,  being  sus- 
pected of  aiding  fugitive  slaves.  We  then  went  to  the 
Anti-Slavery  Office,  and  inquired  of  one  of  the  friends 
there  for  a  quiet,  safe  boarding-house,  without  daring  to 
disclose,  even  there,  who  we  were,  but  only  representing 
ourselves  as  strangers.  We  were  not  prepared  for  our 
disappointment,  and  did  not  know  the  right  course  to  take. 

We   were   directed  to  the    house  of  Mrs.   ,  on 

street.  Nothing  could  exceed  the  excitement  which  ex- 
isted among  the  unfortunate  colored  population  of  this 
Western  Babylon.  The  American  Eagle  was  hovering 
over  their  homes,  just  about  to  make  a  stoop  to  seize  the 
first  victim  of  the  Fugitive  Slave  Law.  Some  were  filled 
with  dismay,  some  roused  to  heroism  ;  some  quickened 
their  vows  to  the  Lord. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

The  narrator  continues  the  story. 

The  time  for  Jonas  and  Jasmyn  to  be  tried  for  being 
concerned  in  the  escape  of  the  slaves  Gilbert  and  Marian, 
from  Livingston  Lawn,  was  near  at  hand.  They  were 
both,  at  the  time  of  their  flight,  the  slaves  of  Mr.  Livingston, 
who  brought  the  action.  Mr.  Livingston  wrote  to  his  neph- 
ew, to  whom  he  had  become  quite  friendly  again,  to  be 
there  at  the  time  of  the  trial  to  witness  against  Jonas,  as 
he  knew  several  circumstances  relating  to  former  trans- 
actions of  the  kind  in  which  Jonas  had  been  concerned. 
He  received  from  him  the  following  reply,  written  by  an 
amenuensis,  and  dated  from  a  little  village, 

"  Dear  Uncle, — Coming  down  here  on  a  pleasure  ex-» 
cursion,  I  was  taken  very  ill  with  a  fever.  I  was  recover- 
ing, but  have  heard  news  which  has  thrown  me  back, 
Marian  has  escaped  ;  it  is  supposed  she  ran  away  with  her 
brother  Gilbert,  who  has  been  missing  for  some  time.  He 
ran  away  from  the  Reverend  Doctor .  This  gentle- 
man has  gone  to  California  to  recover  some  land  which  be- 
came his  for  some  service  in  the  Mexican  war.  I  actual- 
ly hope  Gibbey's  master  will  never  retake  him,  for  his  cru- 
elty is  proverbial ;  but  as  to  Marian,  I  know  not  how  to 
give  her  up,  but  am  as  yet  sick,  and  undecided  what  steps 
to  take.  I  will  try  to  be  there  at  the  time  of  the  trial,  al- 


142 

though  I  believe  the  escape  of  the   slaves   was   perfectly 
voluntary.  ARTHUR  ST.  VALLERY." 

To  this  letter,  Mr.  Livingston  replied  by  urging  Arthur 
to  avail  himself  of  the  fugitive  slave  law,  and  volunteering 
to  act  for  him.  Although  Arthur's  better  feelings  told  him 
it  was  wrong,  his  strong  selfish  passion  prevailed,  and  he 
took  the  most  downward  step  he  had  ever  yet  taken,  and 
writing  to  his  Uncle,  gave  him  power  to  act  as  his  agent 
for  the  recovery  of  the  beautiful  and  unfortunate  slave. 
Mr.  Livingston,  who  had  not  so  much  flesh  left  in  his  heart 
even  as  his  guilty  nephew,  but  was  petrified  to  solid  slave- 
holding  stone,  not  only  undertook  to  subject  his  own  daugh- 
ter again  to  slavery  and  vice,  but  this  man,  this  father,  un- 
solicited, extended  his  rapacity  to  his  son,  and  took  out  a 
warrant  for  Gilbert,  also  thinking  that  his  master  would 
give  a  large  reward  for  him,  haying  the  slave-holders' 
conventional  idea  of  justice,  that  every  slave  should  be  in 
his  master's  hands.  He  thought  no  more  of  Gilbert  than 
of  many  other  slaves  on  his  plantation,  who  bore  the  same 
relationship  to  him  ;  he  only  looked  upon  him  as  a  more 
marketable  slave  than  others.  The  slave  breeding  States 
contain  many  examples  similar  to  this  of  Mr.  Livingston. 
They  make  a  gain  of  their  licentiousness  and  think  no  more 
of  selling  their  own  tender  offspring,  than  a  hog  or  a  sheep, 
regarding  them  only  as  a  means  of  increasing  their  wealth. 
The  worship  of  Moloch  is  renewed  by  these  men,  only  that 
slavery  is  the  Demon.  They  cause  their  own  children  to 
pass  through  the  fire,  regardless  of  their  shrieks  of  torment. 
It  shall  be  more  tolerable  for  Heathen  Assyria,  in  the  day 
of  judgement,  than  for  this  nation.  They  have  been  favor- 
ed with  every  civil  and  religious  blessing,  and  have  turned 


143 

the  very  sweetness  of  Christ's  mercy  to  them,  into  gall  for 
the  poor  crucified  slave  to  drink.  There  is  a  strange  de- 
lusion on  the  heart  of  this  people,  which  makes  them  as 
blind  as  Jewry  in  the  days  of  Christ,  to  their  blasphemous 
and  wicked  position  as  a  nation.  The  mill-stone  is  about 
their  neck  for  their  offences  against  Christ's  little  ones,  yet 
they  cry,  "  the  Lord  is  for  us."  Lord,  open  their  eyes  ! 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

The  narrator  goes  on  with  the  history. 

*  There  was  living  in  New  York  at  that  time   a  female 

monster,  a  she-kidnapper,  Mrs. .       She  had  made    a 

little  fortune  from  the  wages  given  her  for   this  treason  to 
God  and  man.     Worse  than  all,  this  traitor  was  a  colored 
woman.     She  was  a  great  professor  of  religion,  and  had  a 
very  soft,  meek,  sanctified  manner.     She  had  not  lived  in 
New  York  when  she  acquired  her  property,   but  removed 
there  afterwards;  very  few  had  any  suspicions  of  the  man- 
ner in  which  her  wealth  was  acquired,  and    the    few  who 
surmised  the  truth  did  not  dare  to  breathe  their  suspicions. 
She  went  about,  therefore,  a  wolf  in  sheep's  clothing.    She 
was  born  at  the  South,  and  brought  up  in  a   rich  southern 
family.     For  betraying  some  of    her  own  people,  she  had 
received  her  freedom.     Since  that  time  she  had  been  fre- 
quently employed  in  similar  service.     Nor  is  she,  I    fear, 
the  only  paid  colored  Judus  in  these  times.       She  had   a 
large  circle  of  acquaintance,  and  had  a  faculty  for  draw- 
ing out  information  from  people.     She  was  well  known  to 
all  the    kidnapping  gentry   who  infested   the  city.     One 
Sabbath  evening,  this  woman  sat  at  her  luxurious  table,  a 
most  splendid  silver  tea  service  before  her,  when   one  of 
those  contemptible  looking    persons  entered,  whose  very 
look  shows  "  the  meanness  bursting  through." 

*  Such  a  character  has  been  pointed  out  to  me. 


145 

"  Good  evening,  Mrs. '•'  said  he.  Have  you  learn- 
ed any  thing  of  the  persons  I  mentioned  to  you?  " 

"  Dear  me,  sir,"  said  she,  "  I  never  like  to  attend  to 
any  worldly  business,  on  the  Blessed  Sabbath,  but  in  a 
case  of  necessity  you  know,  we  do  not  sin  ;  so  sit  down,  sir. 
1  think  I  can  give  you  a  little  help,  but  times  are  hard,  and 
I  am  in  great  want  of  a  little  ready  money."  The  man 
took  out  a  well  filled  purse,  "  here  "  said  he,  handing  her 
the  money,  "  is  what  we  stipulated  for,  if  you  could  find 
out  these  people,  but  have  you  found  them  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  yes,  sir,  of  course,  or  I  should  not  ask  for  my 
pay ;  but  I  makes  it  a  rule  to  be  paid  before  I  give  any  in- 
formation. I  must  be  quick,  for  I  told  Sister  Mowbery,  I 
would  go  to  meeting  with  her  to-night  This  morning  I  step- 
ped into  Mrs. ,  as  the  church  was  not  open.  She  al- 
ways knows  all  the  news.  She  was  full  to-day,  about  this 
new  law,  and  very  high  against  it,  and  says  I  to  her,  care- 
lessly, "  I  wonder  if  there  are  any  new  fugitives  arrived  ? 
poor  creatures,  how  I  do  pity  them." 

"  Oh !  yes,"  said  she,  "  two  came  into  the  city,  last 
night." 

"  Men,  I  suppose,"  said  I. 

"  No,"  said  she,  "  a  man  and  a  woman." 

"  I  should  like  to  see  them,"  said  I,  "  I  might  give  them 
some  assistance." 

"  I  will  tell  you  where  they  are,"  said  she,  "  but  you 
must  not  whisper  it." 

"  No,  indeed,"  said  I.     She  then   told  me   where  they 

were,  and  I  went  directly  to  the   place.     The  woman   of 

the  house,  though  she  is  acquainted  with    me,  was   very, 

close  and  mum  about  the  matter.     I  told  her  she  need  not 

13 


146 

be  so  private,  I  came  to  bring  some  money  for  the  poor 
things.  She  said  I  might  leave  the  money  if  I  pleased,  it 
might  do  good  to  somebody.  1  left  her  and  went  to  meet- 
ing and  had  a  blessed  season,  and  after  meeting,  I  picked 
a  little  more  out  of  the  first  woman,  as  we  walked  home 
together  from  church.  She  said  the  fugitives  were  to  leave 
Monday  evening ;  so  all  you  have  to  do  is  to  be  ready  for 
them. 

"  I  love  the  white  people,  sir,  I  always  did.  I  think  the 
slaves  are  better  off  where  they  are.  'Tis  all  these  Abo- 
litionists stirring  up  the  slaves,  but  praise  the  goodness, 
this  new  law  will  put  a  stop  to  their  work,  and  then  we 
shall  have  peace,  blessed  peace,  as  my  good  book  says.  I 
don't  want  to  hurry  you,  sir,  but  the  bell  is  ringing  ;  I  wish 
you  good  luck,  sir,"  said  she,  as  she  aided  her  guest  to 
the  door. 

The  reader  perceives  by  this  time  the  danger  that  hung 
over  Gilbert  and  Marian.  Monday  morning,  as  they  were 
sitting  in  Marian's  room,  they  talked  over  their  plans. 

"  I  have  spoken  for  a  carriage  to  take  us  to  the  cars  this 
evening,"  said  Gilbert,  "  but  my  heart  failed  me  when  I 
did  it,  and  something  seemed  to  say,  don't  go  this  evening." 

"  And  why  do  you  go,  brother  ;  mother  always  told  us 
to  give  heed  to  such  intimations." 

"  Because,  my  dear  sister,  I  am  afraid  to  stay  here. 
This  woman  where  we  board  told  me  yesterday,  she  knew 
from  the  first  that  we  were  fugitives,  and  I  do  not  like  that 
other  woman's  leaving  money  for  us.  We  ought  to  have  re- 
ported ourselves  to  the  Vigilance  Committee,  but  we  were 
confused  at  not  finding  the  family  we  were  directed  to.*1 


147 

Marian  sut  looking  thoughtfully  while  her  brother  thus 
spake  ;  her  eyes  had  that  full  look  they  always  wore  when 
her  soul  was  overflowing. 

"  What  are  you  thinking  of,  Marian,"  said  Gilbert.    • 

"  I  am  thinking,"  said  she,  "  of  those  words  from  our 
angel  mother,  spoken  to  me  in  the  Glen,  and  in  the  Prison 
again.  Twice,  thrice  through  the  furnace  past.  Happy 
and  free,  and  saved  at  last.  I  have  been  through  the  fur- 
nace but  twice  yet,  once  when  we  first  escaped,  twice 
when  we  left  New  Orleans  ;  I  must  go  through  thrice." 

"  Dearest  sister,"  said  Gilbert,  "do  not  be  sad  or  super- 
stitous  ;  perhaps  the  third  time  refers  to  your  death,  which 
we  must  all  pass  through.  I  would  go  out  ttow  and  try  to 
see  some  of  the  friends,  but  I  stept  down  street  just  now  to 
speak  for  the  hack,  and  a  mean,  suspicious  looking  fellow, 
followed  and  watched  me.  I  think  our  safest  way,  on  th<? 
whole,  is  to  keep  here  still,  till  evening,  and  then  run  the 
risk  of  getting  off  in  the  cars." 

It  was  a  long  day  of  agony  for  the  poor  fugitives.  At 
length  the  hour  came  for  them  to  leave.  With  beating 
hearts,  with  anguish,  which  none  can  tell  but  those  who 
have  endured  it,  they  entered  the  carriage.  But  the  dri- 
ver was  bribed,  the  mean  looking  man  who  had  watched 
Gilbert  in  the  morning,  was  the  Sunday  visitant  of  the  she- 
kidnapper.  Instead  of  driving  them  to  the  cars,  he  stop- 
at  a  bye-place,  where  they  were  surrounded  by  armed  men 
who  rushed  into  the  carriage,  and  gagged  their  victims. 
They  took  them  off  without  daring  to  risk  even  the  villain- 
ously easy  process  of  the  new  Law,  being  afraid  of  a  res- 
cue. They  were  literally  kidnapped.  Ah  !  where  were 
their  golden  hopes  of  liberty  !  They  were  in  utter  despair. 


148 


The  ruffian  kidnappers  urged  on  their  way,  day  and  night, 

until  they  reached  the  town  of  ,  and  were  conveyed 

again  to  the  prison,  where  Jonas  and  Jasmyn  were  still  in 
bonds. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

The  narrator  continues  the  story. 

We  return  to  tell  what  had  befallen  our  old  friends  du- 
ring this  period.  Cornelia,  we  left  under  the  care  of  Aimee. 
Aimee  kept  her  hidden,  while  she  converted  the  jewels  in- 
to money,  and  carried  on  a  negotiation  with  her  master, 
which  ended  in  the  purchase  of  her  freedom.  Just  about 
this  time,  the  Jailer,  who  lived  by  himself,  wanted  a  fe- 
male assistant,  and  Aimee  thinking  to  benefit  her  father, 
and  inwardly  guided  thereto,  took  Cornelia  into  her  room, 
one  day,  and  said,  "  I  have  had  a  very  pleasant  occupation 
with  thee,  Cornelia,  teaching  thce  to  sew,  to  read  and  to 
write,  but  now  I  think  an  opportunity  is  opened  for  thee  to 
do  us  all  good  in  return.  I  learned  yesterday,  that  the 
jailer  had  lost  his  female  assistant,  and  is  seeking  for 
another.  He  is  a  man  of  good  morals,  and  I  have  found 
him  more  kind  than  I  expected.  I  do  not  wish  him  to 
know  much  concerning  thee,  but  go  and  offer  thyself  as  a 
domestic,  to  him.  There  is  a  look  of  capability  about  thee 
which  will  recommend  thee  at  once.  But  if  he  requires  it, 
show  him  thy  free  papers,  and  the  recommendation  I  pro- 
cured from  thy  master.  Thou  may'st  do  much  good  to 
my  father,  and  to  others.  Poor  Jasmyn  is  sick  of  the  jail- 
fever  ;  thou  art  skilful,  and  may  help  him." 

Cornelia  followed  this  advice,  and  had  been  in  her  new 
situation  but  a  week,  when  again,  followed  by  a  hooting 
13* 


150 

mob,  who  shouted  "  Huzza  for  the  Fugitive  Slave  law," 
Gilbert  and  Marian  entered  those  iron  gates,  which  they 
feared  would  never  again  open  for  them,  but  to  consign 
one  to  cruel  tortures  worse  than  death,  and  the  other  to  bru- 
tal violation  of  the  chastity  dearer  than  life.  They  were 
thrust  into  one  celL  They  sat  down  together.  As  well 
as  their  chains  would  permit,  they  embraced  and  wept. 

"  Pure  angel,"  said  Gilbert  to  Marian,  "  1  could  have 
died  to  save  thee,  but  what  am  I  against  a  nation.  This 
natron  has  decided  that  thy  virtue  shall  be  violated,  or  thy 
chaste  body  tortured  to  death.  They  have  decided  that 
because  I  wanted  to  be  a  man,  I  should  suffer  all  that  tyr- 
anny can  inflict.  They  stand  up  and  boast  themselves 
free.  So  did  tyrrannous  and  heathenish  Rome.  Have 
they  not  hunted  their  red  brethren  with  hounds  ?  have  they 
not  rained  fiery  bombs  on  Mexican  women  and  children  ?- 
I  hope  for  no  mercy  from  them." 

As  he  said  these  words,  stung  by  the  oppression  w  which 
will  make  a  wise  man  mad,"  the  door  opened,  and  COIN 
nelia  appeared  bringing  their  food.  To  Gilbert,  her  ap- 
pearance was  like  the  advent  of  an  angel.  There  was 
something  in  her  serene,  free  and  glorious  eye,  that  sent 
healing  life  through  his  soul,  and  calmed  at  onee  the  tu» 
mult  within.  What  a  moment  for  love  to  spring  up  in  the 
heart,  till  then  a  stranger  to  its  power.  But  it  was  there, 
and  with  it  a  presentiment  that  Cornelia  was  to  him  the 
morning  star  of  a  better  destiny,  after  that  deep  night  of 
sorrow.  How  radiant  is  goodness,  wherever  it  dwells, 
whether  in  black  or  white  !  her  pure  rays  declare  the  in- 
dwelling God  ;  and  the  soul  gazes  and  is  refreshed  by  the 
still  gliding  waters  of  eternal  life.  From  that  instant,  Gil- 


151 

bert's  heart  revived.  It  was  Freedom  to  him,  to  look  at 
the  noble  Cornelia.  Cornelia  stopt  a  few  moments  and 
conversed  with  them.  She  told  them  of  Jasmyn's  sick- 
ness. This  deeply  afflicted  his  tender  wife.  How  trying  ! 
her  husband,  whom  she  loved  so  truly,  so  near  her,  and 
sick  perhaps  unto  death  !  "  this  is  worst  of  all,"  said  she, 
after  Cornelia  left  them.  Her  brother  tried  to  comfort 
her,  in  vain  ;  she  could  bear  no  more,  and  wept  till  she  fell 
asleep  from  exhaustion.  Gilbert  counted  the  hours  till 
Cornelia  came  again  with  their  food,  and  when  she  appear- 
ed, forgot  the  fetters  and  the  prison.  Cornelia  told  Mar- 
ian  her  husband  knew  she  was  in  the  prison,  and  besought 
her  not  to  grieve  for  him,  even  if  he  should  die.  "  But  I 
think,"  said  Cornelia,  "he  will  get  well  ;  he  has  good 
nursing." 

Aimee  came  that  day,  to  visit  her  father,  as  usual. 
4'  Aimee,"  said  Jonas,  "  thou  wilt  grieve  to  know  that  they 
have  hunted  down  the  poor  children  Gibby  and  Marian  ; 
they  are  here  in  irons.  I  see  no  hope  for  them  or  for  Jas- 
myn,  for  even  if  he  lives  he  will  be  sold  for  his  jail  fees. 
My  soul  is  sorely  pressed,  my  Aimee,  with  grief  for 
the  enslaved  nation,  yet  still  I  feel  the  Everlasting  arms 
under  me." 

"  Father,"  said  Aimee,  while  the  tears  hung  like  spark- 
ling chrystals  from  her  long  lashes,  "  how  often  hast  thou 
told  me  that  '  man's  extremity  is  God's  opportunity.'  Be 
not  discouraged,  I  see  a  rainbow  looming  up  over  this 
storm.  The  voice  of  Jesus  comes  very  soft  and  quieting 
to  me  while  our  barque  is  being  tossed  on  these  billows. 
4  It  is  1,'  be  not  afraid." 

After  visiting  her  father,  she  wanted  to  see  the  other 
prisoners,  but  was  not  permitted  to  at  that  time.  She  then 


152 

went  to  see  Sybil.  The  door  of  the  hut  was  opened  and 
there  sat  Sybil,  listlessly  patting  the  head  of  her  dog.  Her 
old  eyes  were  almost  blind  with  weeping.  That  spot,  once 
the  seat  of  cleanly  comfort,  looked  desolate  and  neglected. 

"  How  are  you,  mother?"  said  Aimee.  "  Sec,  I  have 
brought  you  some  nice  tea,  such  as  you  love,  and  some 
other  good  things  !" 

"  Thank  you,  dear  lady,"  said  Sybil,  "you  are  very  kind, 
always  was  ;  but  Sybil  see  no  more  good,  she  most  done, 
cannot  kill  her  many  more  times.  This  poor  old  hut,  I 
thought  I  could  sell  it  to  pay  Jasmyn's  jail  fees,  but  the 
white  man  chsated  me  and  I  cannot  sell  it;  it  is  his  when 
I  die,  and  that  will  be  soon." 

"  Be  calm,  good  Sybil,"  said  Aimee,  "  trust  in  God  ; 
Jasmyn  may  escape." 

"  What  if  he  does  escape,"  said  Sybil,  "  it  is  of  no  use, 
they  will  hunt  him  down  till  he  dies!  Poor  Gibby  and 
Marian.  I  heard  the  mob  last  night  ;  I  was  coming  from 
prison;  I  saw  the  poor  fettered  lambs.  Ah,  where  is  God, 
the  great  good  God  !  ah,  he  hide  himself  a  dreadful  long 
time  from  his  poor  black  people,  but  let  me  tell  them  he 
comes,  he  comes  bye-and-bye.  I  saw  him  last  night  in 
deep  sleep,  and  he  chased  this  wicked  nation  before  him 
like  a  rolling  thing,  and  from  his  cloudy  garment  came 
such  dreadful  lightnings  that  I  said,  '  who  shall  live  when 
he  doeth  this  !'  " 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

la  which  Gilbert  again  appears  in  person,  speaking  for  himself. 

"  She  comes  !  she  comes  !  my  chosen  one, 
The  bright-eyed  daughter  of  the  sun  ; 
The  life  that  in  that  bosom  glows, 
The  pale  oppressor  never  knows  ; 
None  of  the  dwindling  Saxon  race 
Can  match  her  free  and  vigorous  grace  ; 
Though  sable  skin  her  form  may  shroud, 
An  angel  dwells  within  the  cloud." 

The  reader  has  been  told  of  the  new  change  that  had 
come  over  me.  It  seemed  to  me,  when  I  entered  the 
prison,  the  tenth  wave  of  affliction  was  breaking  over  me. 
But  God  sent  to  me  Cornelia,  like  the  angel  of  his  mercy. 
Jasmyn's  anxiety  for  his  wife,  had  produced  an  excite- 
ment, favorable  to  his  recovery,  and  he  was  now  convales- 
cent. Cornelia  now  began  to  prepare  for  the  execution  of 
a  scheme  she  had  formed  for  our  deliverance.  She  barely 
told  us  such  a  design  was  in  her  mind,  but  said  she  felt  if 
she  told  any  one  the  details  of  her  plan,  she  should  lose 
her  faith,  and  should  not  succeed.  She  consulted  with  us, 
as  to  our  route,  dress,  &c.,  and  procured  for  us  the  neces- 
sary habiliments.  But  not  even  to  Aimee,  did  she  confide 
the  means  by  which  she  proposed  to  execute  the  scheme, 
but  only  requested  her  not  to  leave  her  father  that  night, 
but  remain  with  him  in  the  prison  ;  as  she  was  often  per- 
mitted to  do  so,  when  he  was  unwell.  "  For,"  said  she, 


154 

"  I  shall  feel  strong  if  you  are  here."  I  told  her  if  she 
could  help  us,  I  should  be  glad,  but  conjured  her  not  to  do 
this,  if  she  must  share  our  dangers,  and  risk  the  liberty  so 
wonderfully  obtained.  To  which  the  generous  girl  only 
replied,  "  Gilbert,  there  is  no  other  way,  but  for  me  to 
share  your  danger,  and  I  am  willing  to  leave  my  fate  with 
God,  while  I  am  doing  his  will,  and  setting  free  you  and 
Marian,  and  her  husband  ;  so  you  must  talk  no  more,  but 
let  me  do  my  work." 

When  Cornelia  lived  in  Texas,  an  old  Indian  used  often 
to  come  to  her  master's,  who  was  in  much  esteem  among 
his  people,  as  a  prophet  and  a  doctor.  He  was  well  skill- 
ed in  nature's  lore,  and  understood  the  nature  and  virtues 
of  plants.  Cornelia  showed  him  all  the  kindness  her  active, 
loving  nature  prompted  towards  every  one  who  came  in 
her  way.  He,  in  return  for  the  many  good  offices  she  did 
him,  communicated  to  her  many  secrets  of  his  trade,  and 
made  her  an  herb  doctress.  Among  the  rest,  he  taught 
her  to  prepare  a  powerful  but  innoxious  anodyne,  which 
he  called  the  sleepy  charm.  It  was  to  this  she  owed,  un- 
der Providence,  her  own  deliverance  from  slavery.  The 
jailer  was  accustomed  to  eat  a  late  supper  and  to  take  two 
or  three  cups  of  strong  coffee.  Cornelia  would  often  take 
some  also  to  the  men  who  kept  guard.  She  infused  her 
anodyne  into  this  strong  coffee,  and  they  all  drank  freely 
of  it,  without  any  suspicion,  on  the  evening  of  our  flight. 
She  had  observed  where  the  jailer  kept  his  keys,  and  as 
soon  as  she  saw  him  effectually  asleep,  she  secured  them, 
and  after  reconnoitering  about  the  prison,  and  finding 
them  all  asleep,  she  came  and  unlocked  our  cells.  We 
were  all  equipped  for  flight,  It  was  agreed  that  it  was 


155 

safest  for  us  to  take  different  routes,  though  finally 
to  meet  at  one  place.  Also,  we  concluded  it  best  that 
Jasmyn  and  Cornelia  should  travel  together,  and  Mar- 
ian and  myself  were  to  take  a  course  over  the  moun- 
tains. I  prepared  to  appear  in  our  old  disguise,  if 
needful ;  Cornelia  and  Jasmyn  were  to  go  as  master  and 
servant.  Jasmyn  was  nearly  as  white  as  Master.  Cor- 
nelia, drest  in  a  green  frock  coat,  trousers,  and  jockey-cap, 
being  naturally  athletic  and  graceful,  was  not  so  easily  de- 
tected in  her  disguise,  as  other  women  might  be,  for  her 
habits  of  life  had  been  more  like  those  of  the  other  sex, 
and  calculated  to  produce  a  healthy,  robust  constitution  ; 
yet  her  nature  was  so  truly  feminine,  that  it  softened  those 
traits  which  had  otherwise  rendered  her  less  lovely  as  a 
woman.  Marian  and  Jasmyn  had  not  met  before  since 
their  first  capture,  on  their  memorable  bridal  evening.  It 
was  a  tender,  but  silent  meeting,  for  we  dared  not  speak 
a  word,  for  fear  of  alarming  the  other  prisoners.  For 
myself,  I  experienced  a  variety  of  emotions.  I  saw  the 
generous  Cornelia  about  to  share  with  us  the  terrible  risks 
of  a  run-a-way,  increased  ten-fold  by  the  new  law.  While 
from  my  soul  I  admired  her  magnanimity,  I  could  not 
bear  she  should  thus  risk  her  new  found  freedom.  Silent- 
ly and  softly  we  left  the  prison,  under  her  conduct,  and 
passed  the  guard,  soundly  sleeping  under  the  influence  of 
her  magnetic  potion.  I  thought  of  the  angel  who  opened 
the  gates  for  the  apostle  !  On  the  outskirts  of  the  town, 
we  parted. 

"  Not  so  they  part  in  peaceful  times, 
The  lovers  of  a  happier  race, 
As  we  in  peril's  fearful  hour, 


156 

At  our  appointed  place. 
Oh  !  strong  the  love  that  springs  up  there, 
And  grapples  with  our  heart's  despair ; 
Yet  not  a  word  we  dared  to  speak, 
Lest  even  the  traitor  bush  should  toll : 
And  the  hot  tears  upon  the  cheek, 
Was  all  that  said  farewell ! ! " 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

The  narrator  resumes  the  story. 

Aimee  and  Jonas  aided  the  fugitives  by  counsel  and  by 
giving  them  letters  to  their  friends.  After  taking  an  affec- 
tionate leave  of  them  on  the  evening  of  their  flight,  she 
returned  to  her  father's  cell  to  pass  the  night  with  him. 
She  had  provided  a  little  couch  for  herself  to  use  on  such 
occasions.  Jonas  felt  so  intensely  for  them  that  she  feared 
it  would  injure  him,  and  sat  by  his  side  till  Cornelia  came, 
unlocked  the  door,  and  gave  her  the  silent  signal  they  had 
agreed  upon.  Cornelia  then  went  on  leaving  the  doorslightJy 
ajar,  not  feeling  as  if  she  could  turn  the  key  on  her  friends. 
At  her  father's  earnest  request,  Aimee  lay  down  on  the 
couch  to  rest.  Let  us  leave  her  asleep  in  that  sweet  peace 
"  which  goodness  bosoms  ever,"  and  look  in  at  Livings- 
ton Lawn. 

On  the  evening  of  this  eventful  night,  Arthur  St.  Vallery 
arrived  at  his  uncle's  seat.  He  found  Mr.  Livingston  absent. 
His  aunt  was  indisposed,  so  that  he  saw  neither  of  them. 
The  sight  of  the  library  where  the  dreadful  tragedy  had 
occurred,  deeply  affected  him.  During  his  recent  illness, 
his  sinful  life  had  troubled  him.  He  even  almost  resolved 
to  give  up  the  beautiful  slave,  whom,  with  all  his  wealth, 
youth  and  personal  attractions,  he  had  been  unable  to  se- 
duce from  virtue  ;  often  on  his  sick  bed  her  image  seemed 
to  rise  before  him.  He  saw  the  languor  of  deep  settled 
14 


158 

sorrow  in  her  gentle  eyes  :  he  heard  her  pleading  voice, 
and  execrated  his  own  selfishness  and  tyranny.  But  with 
returning  health,  these  feelings  gave  place  to  the  habitual 
domination  of  passion,  and  when  he  heard  of  her  escape, 
he  was  almost  beside  himself.  It  was  at  this  time  he  first 
wrote  to  his  uncle,  and  soon  after  received  in  reply,  his 
uncle's  offer  to  act  as  his  agent,  and  use  the  power  of  the 
Fugitive  Slave  Law  to  recover  her.  He  hesitated  ;  the 
nobler  feelings  of  his  nature  revolted  at  the  step,  but  his 
education  as  a  slave-holder,  came  in  to  the  aid  of  his  sel- 
fish passion.  '  She  is  my  slave,'  said  he,  '  I  have  a  right 
to  her  ;  perhaps  on  her  return,  she  will  be  more  humble 
and  submissive.  I  hate  the  spirit  of  this  law,  but  for  once 
I  will  use  it.  The  foolish  girl,  to  oppose  her  own  good  for- 
tune.' He  then  wrote  and  accepted  his  uncle's  offer,  who 
gave  him  notice  that  the  fugitives  were  discovered,  and 
about  to  be  arrested,  and  he  would  undoubtedly  find  them 
in  prison  on  his  arrival.  But  after  St.  Vallery  had  taken 
that  downward  step,  he  lost  his  own  self-respect,  and  har- 
rassing  stings  of  conscience  continually  tormented  him.  He 
saw  the  amiable  Marian,  in  the  hands  of  her  kidnappers  ; 
he  saw  her  chained  and  driven  by  a  mob  to  prison  ;  he  saw 
her  brother  about  to  be  delivered  to  a  tyrant,  who  would 
spare  no  ingenuity  of  torture,  and  he  felt  himself  a  base, 
dastardly  tyrant.  His  pertubation  increased  the  nearer  he 
drew  to  her  place  of  confinement,  and  when  he  arrived  at 
Livingston  Lawn,  no  wonder  the  remembrance  of  what 
had  transpired  there,  completed  the  horror  of  his  mind. 
He  slept  none  that  night,  and  rising  at  early  dawn,  he  took 
his  horse  and  rode  to  town,  resolving  to  see  the  jailer,  and 
have  Marian  placed  in  a  more  comfortable  situation  till  he 


159 

was  ready  to  remove  her.  He  had  not  apprized  Gilbert's 
master,  of  his  probable  arrest,  as  he  had  been  requested 
to  by  his  uncle,  for  he  was  secretly  determined  to  give 
him  a  chance  to  escape.  He  hitched  his  horse  at  the  end 
of  the  street  leading  to  the  jail,  and  walked  up.  He  was 
surprised  to  find  the  outer  gate  open  so  early,  and  the 
guards  asleep,  but  he  passed  on.  He  entered  the  house  ; 
it  reminded  him  of  ancient  legends  where  some  potent  en- 
chantress1 wand  has  locked  all  in  magic  sleep.  The  high, 
dim  lamps,  glimmered  in  their  sockets,  as  he  passed  through 
the  long,  gloomy  passages.  Thought  he,  it  is  possible 
they  have  escaped  ;  and  something  like  a  weight  passed  off 
his  heart.  As  he  went  on,  he  heard  the  low,  continuous 
sound  of  a  human  voice  ;  it  was  the  voice  of  a  female  in 
deep  prayer;  following  the  sound,  he  came  to  a  room  the 
door  of  which  was  partly  open.  By  the  early  morning 
light  streaming  down  through  the  grated  windows,  he  be- 
held a  female  bowed  in  supplication,  and  beside  her,  a 
venerable  man,  who  joined  with  her  in  her  devotions. 
There  was  a  voice  within  that  voice,  that  reached  his  in- 
most soul,  and  pierced  through  and  through  that  long  clo- 
sed heart.  "  Oh,  Saviour,"  said  the  suppliant,  "  shall  the 
man  of  the  earth  always  oppress  ?  Look  thou  on  the 
jioor  fugitives,  and  be  to  them  a  very  present  help  in  trou- 
ble. By  all  those  precious  sufferings  of  thine  which  link 
thy  greatness  with  our  weakness,  and  touch  thee,  even 
thee,  with  human  sympathy,  look  on  the  Enslaved  Nation  ! 
Are  not  all  hearts  in  thy  hand,  and  canst  thou  not  turn  the 
heart  of  the  oppressor,  and  wilt  thou  not  do  it  ?  Be  very 
gracious  to  our  friends  who  left  us  last  night ;  be  their 
guard  by  day,  and  by  night.  And  for  us  who  voluntarily 


160 

remain,  help  us  to  bear  a  good  testimony  before  the  coun- 
cil, speaking  in  the  spirit  of  Thee  our  Father.  Let  them 
take  away  our  earthly  goods,  and  even  our  earthly  life. 
Father,  thou  art  our  good  and  our  abiding  life.  Yet,  Fa- 
ther, forgive  us  that  we  weep  while  we  pray,  for  we  weep 
not  for  ourselves  alone  ;  we  sorrow  even  unto  thee  for  the 
poor  slaves.  We  weep  for  very  anguish,  and  brokenness 
of  heart.  Father,  suffer  us  to  weep."  Here  her  voice 
choked  with  sobs,  but  an  involuntary  movement  made  by 
St.  Vallery,  caused  Jonas  to  turn  his  head,  and  he  beheld, 
to  his  astonishment,  a  stranger  standing  just  within  the 
room.  "  Who  art  thou,"  said  Jonas  ? 

"  I  am  a  sinner,  and  the  greatest  of  sinners,"  said  St. 
Vallery.  "  Like  Saul  I  have  been  '  haling  men  and  women 
to  prison.'  Like  him,  a  light  above  the  brightness  of 
the  sun,  has  struck  down  my  pride.  Oh  !  pray  for  me ! 
pray  for  me  !  I  am  Marian's  guilty  master.  No  tongue 
can  utter  what  I  have  suffered  the  past  week.  I  must  re- 
turn now ;  I  cannot  stop.  But  of  one  thing  be  assured, 
the  poor  fugitives  from  this  prison  shall  not  be  pursued- 
I  shall  be  quick,  to  prevent  it.  From  this  moment,  Marian 
is  free.  With  these  words  he  went  away,  passing  out  as 
he  came  in,  and  re-mounting  his  horse,  returned  to  Liv- 
ingston Lawn.  Mr.  Livingston  had  returned,  and  recei- 
ved his  nephew  as  if  nothing  had  ever  taken  place  of  an 
unpleasant  nature  between  them.  He  observed  that  he 
was  very  serious  ;  but  that  seemed  very  proper,  as  this 
was  the  first  time  they  had  met.  But  after  breakfast,  Mr. 
Livingston  began  to  talk  with  him  about  the  impending 
trial,  and  Arthur  at  once  requested  him  to  withdraw  the 
suit, 


161 

"  Now,  if  ever,"  said  his  unele,  "  we  must  maintain  our 
rights.  I  hope  you  will  give  evidence  in  this  trial,  that  Gibby 
was  my  slave,  and  will  testify  against  the  general  character 
of  Jonas  Freeman,  as  a  known  abettor  of  insubordination, 
among  the  slaves.  You  know  several  facts  about  it." 

"  Indeed  I  cannot,  uncle,"  said  Arthur,  "  especially  as 
1  do  believe  that  the  escape  of  the  slaves  was  voluntary  in 
this  case.  I  had  resolved  to  have  nothing  to  do  with  it, 
before  I  left  home,  and  only  came  to  recover  Marian." 

"  You  do  not  seem  aware,"  said  his  uncle,  "  of  the 
crisis  we  are  passing  through.  Jonas  Freeman  deserves 
to  be  made  an  example  of.  I  think  he  has  had  a  hand  in  the 
escape  of  run-a-ways,  for  the  last  twenty  years.  I  am  re- 
joiced he  is  caught  at  last.  But  as  to  the  slaves  :  I  sup- 
pose Jasmyn  will  be  sold  for  his  jail  fees.  Marian  you 
will  take.  I  suppose  you  have  written  to  the  Doctor, 
about  Gibby." 

"  Sir,"  said  Arthur,  "  As  I  live  nearest  the  Doctor,  1 
will  take  charge  of  Gilbert,  and  will  pay  you  over  to-day, 
if  you  wish  it,  the  reward  offered  for  his  apprehension." 

"  That  would  be  a  great  convenience,"  said  Mr.  Liv- 
ingston, "  at  present ;  but  you  must  take  care  he  docs  not 
run  away  before  his  master  lays  his  hands  on  him  again. 
I  think  he  ought  to  be  speedily  returned  to  him  ;  he  is  a 
dangerous  and  audacious  fellow." 

How  differently  all  this  sounded,  in  the  ears  of  Arthur, 
from  what  it  had  done  before.  The  great  work  had  indeecj 
begun  in  his  soul. 


14* 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

The  narrator  continues  the  story. 

Arthur  St.  Vallery  returned  that  forenoon  to  the  prison. 
The  jailer,  who  was  now  broad  awake,  met  him  at  the 
door,  not  dreaming  that  he  had  been  there  before.  He 
met  Arthur  with  a  ready  coined  story.  He  came  forward 
with  a  rueful  face,  one  arm  in  a  sling,  and  one  of  his  eyes 
bound  up. 

"  Is  this  Mr.  St.  Vallery  ?"  said  he. 

"Yes,  good  morning,  sir  ;  how  came  you  hurt  ?" 

"  There  was  not  half  strong  guard  enough,  sir,  and  the 
niggers  have  got  away.  1  want  no  drunken  men  to  guard 
such  fellows  as  that  Gibby,  and  about  all  the  guard  were 
drunk.  We  had  a  terrible  scuffle." 

"  You  need  not  trouble  yourself  at  all,"  said  St.  Vallery. 
'  I  have  not  the  least  doubt  you  did  your  duty." 

"  I  did,"  said  the  jailer,  "  and  you  put  out  a  good  hand- 
some reward,  and  1  have  no  doubt  they  will  be  brought  in 
to-day." 

"  No  hurry,"  said  St.  Vallery,  "  we  are  sure  enough." 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  jailer,  "  that  new  law  makes  all  dif- 
ference ;  pretty  hard  law,  though,  upon  the  poor  niggers." 

Arthur  found  the  jailer  agreeably  disappointed  at  his  in- 
difference, though  somewhat  marveling  at  the  cause  of  it. 
The  truth  of  the  story  was  this:  "When  the  jailer  first 
came  to  himself,  he  rubbed  his  eyes,  and  said,  "  I  wonder 


163 

why  that  jade  Cornelia  has  not  waked  me  before,  'tis  broad 
day  ;"  looking  out  at  the  window  as  he  was  dressing,  he 
wondered  to  see  one  or  two  guards  asleep.  Going  down, 
he  met  one  of  the  guard,  and  says,  u  what  does  all  this 
mean  ?" 

"  Mean  .?"  said  the  man,  "  It  means  that  the  devil  has 
been  here,  stolen  the  keys,  and  let  out  them  niggers." 

"  Ah,  you  rogue,"  said  the  jailer,  "  you  have  been 
drunk.  I  found  my  keys  in  their  old  place  ;  but  I  read  the 
riddle  now.  This  is  all  Cornelia's  work  ;  I'll  go  look  in  the 
kitchen  ;  I'll  bet  she's  gone  with  them." 

He  went,  and  soon  returned. 

"  She's  gone,"  said  he,  "  I  wonder  what  I  was  thinking 
of,  when  I  hired  that  jade,  Cornelia  ?  I  might  have  known 
by  the  look  of  her  eye,  she  was  up  to  any  thing.  A  fine 
scrape  we  shall  have,  when  their  owner  comes,  and  he 
passed  through  town  last  evening.  But  how  she  got  them 
keys,  and  put  them  back  again  so  snug — that's  the  mys- 
tery. I  believe  she  is  a  witch,  and  bewitched  us  all,  for 
look,  how  we  all  slept."  He  then  went  on  and  examined 
the  cells.  He  found  the  cell  where  Jonas  was,  open.  He 
was  alone,  for  Aimee  had  gone  to  carry  the  news  of  the 
escape  to  Sybil. 

"  How  came  your  cell  opened,"  said  the  jailer. 

"  I  did  not  open  it,"  said  Jonas,  "  but  thee  sees  I  might 
have  gone  if  I  had  been  so  willed." 

"  Do  you  know  anything  how  the  slaves  got  out  ?"  said 
the  jailer,  "  come,  you  must  let  me  into  this  business." 

"  When  thee  shows  me  thy  right  to  make  such  inquiries, 
perhaps  I  may  reply  to  thee.  Thou  hast  the  keys,  hast 
thou  not  ?  " 


164 

"  Yes,  I  found  them  where  I  always  keep  them." 

"  Then  thou  must  read  the  riddle." 

"  I'll  give  this  business  up,"  said  the  jailer,  as  he  retired. 
"  I  wish  I  was  back  north,  yes,  I  do  ;  this  young  southern- 
er will  be  here  presently,  all  blood  and  battle,  and  ready 
to  eat  me  up  alive,  because  his  niggers  are  gone.  I  must 

fix  up  a  story  for  him. 

******* 

Arthur  having  quieted  the  jailers  fears,  asked  to  see  Jo- 
nas. He  found  him  still  alone,  and  entered  into  a  long 
conversation  with  him. 

"  In  my  late  sickness,"  said  he,  "  I  first  felt  the  terrors 
of  an  awakened  conscience,  but  as  my  health  returned,  I 
strove  against,  and  overcome  those  feelings,  but  since  I 
heard  that  prayer,  this  morning,  there  seems  to  have  come 
a  strange  change  over  my  mind  ;  scales  have  fallen  from 
my  eyes.  I  am  perfectly  ready  to  give  Marian  her  free- 
dom, and  I  am  astonished  at  my  own  readiness  to  do  so. 
To-morrow  I  will  give  you  her  free  papers.  I  mean  to  pur- 
chase Gilbert  of  his  master,  that  I  may  free  him,  also.  A 
very  simple  plan  has  suggested  itself,  by  which  I  can  cover 
up  their  flight,  which  is  not  yet  known  beyond  the  prison. 
I  shall  take  the  preparatory  steps  before  I  leave  the  prison." 

"  These  are  true  signs  of  thy  heart's  being  moved,"  said 
Jonas,  "just  and  righteous  acts  are  they,  and  dost  thou  not 
feel  vastly  the  better  ?  " 

"Certainly,"  said  Arthur,  "  it  was  like  death  to  me  to 
part  with  Marian,  but  when  I  had  yielded  to  my  convic- 
tions, it  was  like  taking  a  heavy  chain  off  a  man." 

"  Yes,"  said  Jonas,  "  and  for  every  slave  thou  free'st,  a 
shackle  will  fall  from  off  thine  own  soul,  and  when  the 


165 

last  one  falls  from  thy  last  slave,  thou  shalt  be  free  indeed." 

"  I  am  not  able  to  do  all  that  yet,"  said  Arthur  ;  "  I  do 
not  see  it  my  duty,  but  I  mean  to  be  a  better  master." 

"  I  must  not  keep  back  the  truth  from  thee,"  said  Jonas. 
"  God  will  have  a  whole  burnt  offering ;  thou  wilt  not  rest 
till  thou  hast  given  up  all." 

"  I  wish  I  could  induce  uncle  to  withdraw  the  suit," 
said  Arthur. 

"  I  thank  thee  for  thy  good  wishes,"  said  Jonas  ;  "  I  love 
thee,  and  pray  that  He  that  has  begun  with  thee,  will  finish 

his  work." 

******* 

"  The  trial  come  on  the  next  day,  and  Jonas  was  ar- 
raigned before  the  court.  The  court  room  was  crowded. 
All  the  gentry  in  the  vicinity  were  there,  and  all  the 
Friends  who  lived  about  there  ;  hanging  about  the  doors, 
among  the  crowd,  were  many  poor  colored  people,  who 
loved  Jonas  as  a  father.  The  principal  evidence  against 
the  prisoner,  was  given  by  the  slave  hunters,  who  surprised 
them  in  the  cave,  and,  though  some  of  these  were  overseers, 
and  low  bullies,  yet,  to  their  shame,  be  it  spoken,  the 
proudest  of  the  gentry  were  among  them  ;  there  was  also 
some  testimony  given  to  prove  that  Jonas  had  been  often 
guilty  of  similar  offences.  Mr.  Livingston  made  one  more 
private  effort  to  bring  Arthur  to  the  witness  stand,  but  he 
told  him  at  once,  if  he  came  he  should  witness  in  favor  of 
Jonas.  On  the  part  of  the  prisoner,  the  chief  evidence  was 
his  daughter,  and  Dorcas  Hart,  though  several  eminent 
public  Friends,  bore  witness  to  his  excellent  character,  by 
voluntary  testimony.  When  Aimee  came  forward  to  the 
stand,  she  attracted  every  eye.  That  air  of  touching  grief 


threw  over  her  youth  and  beauty  a  sacred  charm,  that  all 
felt,  and  for  a  moment,  you  might  have  heard  a  pin    fall. 

There  was  one,  among  the  crowd,  who  in  the  morning 
twilight,  in  the  gloomy  darkened  cell,  had  but  faintly  discer- 
ned that  countenance,  who  could  not  withdraw  his  eyes  from 
her  meek  loveliness.  With  great  self-possession,  she  gave 
her  evidence.  Dorcas  Hart  followed  ;  poor  Dorcas,  who 
never  thought  to  see  such  a  trying  day.  Jonas  was  allow- 
ed to  plead  his  own  cause,  which  he  did  briefly.  "  In  the 
first  place,"  said  he,  "  I  am  accused  of  enticing  away  these 
slaves,  to  which  I  boldly  plead,  not  guilty.  That  these 
poor  slaves  came  to  me,  I  do  not  deny  ;  that  1  entertained 
them  with  a  little  of  that  hospitality,  whereby  some  of  old 
entertained  angels  unawares,  I  am  free  to  own.  I  like- 
wise brought  them  a  piece  on  their  journey.  That  is  the 
whole  of  my  crime.  Do  with  me  as  you  will,  I  have  finish- 
ed my  course,  I  have  kept  the  faith.  Henceforth  there  is 
laid  up  for  me  a  crown  of  righteousness."  Jonas  then  sat 
down,  the  peace  which  dwelt  within,  illuminating  his  ven- 
erable countenance.  The  Jury  retired  :  in  a  short  time 
they  returned,  with  their  verdict — guilty  of  harboring  and 
aiding  the  fugitive  slaves.  He  was  not  arrested,  nor  the 
action  brought  under  the  new  law  ;  his  sentence  was  not 
imprisonment,  but  banishment  from  the  State,  and  a  fine 
of  three  thousand  dollars.  He  was  to  leave  the  State  di- 
rectly. A  slight  tremor  shook  the  frame  of  the  prisoner. 
He  bowed  his  head,  and  buried  his  face  in  his  hands. 

"  My  father,"  exclaimed  a  voice  from  the  little  compa- 
ny of  Friends,  and  instantly  Aimee  was  by  his  side.  The 
holy  instincts  of  nature,  over-awed  the  court,  as  father  and 
daughter  wept  together.  They  were  no  more  seperated. 


167 

Some  officers  were  appointed  to  attend  them  beyond  the 
bounds  of  the  State.  The  Friends  came  around  them  with 
heart-felt  expressions  of  sorrow.  There  was  one  among 
the  group  of  young  men  at  the  door,  who  stepped  forward, 
and  with  deep  respect,  handed  the  exile  and  his  daughter, 
and  Dorcas  Hart,  into  the  carriage,  for  the  faithful  Dorcas, 
who  had  laid  up  a  little  property  by  industry,  chose  to 
share  their  exile.  He  who  had  thus  publicly  evinced  his 
sympathy  with  the  outcasts,  gazed  after  the  carriage  until 
it  was  out  of  sight,  then  slowly  walked  away.  "  And  so 
it  is,"  said  he,  "  an  angel  has  appeared  before  me  in  my 
downward  path,  warned  me,  awakened  me,  and  forever 
vanished  from  my  sight ! — and  yet  what  is  she  to  me  !  " 
The  pride  of  caste  placed  the  beautiful  quakeress,  the 
daughter  of  a  simple  Quaker  farmer,  almost  as  decidedly 
out  of  the  pale  of  that  circle,  where  he  must  be  expected 
to  woo  and  wed,  as  Marian  herself. 

He  had  concerted  the  plan  with  the  jailer,  by  which  he 
proposed  to  conceal  the  flight  of  Gilbert  and  Marian.  The 
guard  came  easily  into  it,  as  their  own  honor  was  concerned. 
He  was  to  come  in  the  evening  with  a  carriage,  on  pretence 
of  removing  the  slaves,  in  order  to  take  them  away.  He 
accordingly  went  to  the  jail,  where  two  of  the  guard,  dis- 
guised, were  carried  ofFin  his  carriage  as  the  slaves.  But  as 
for  Jasmyn,  he  told  the  jailer  that  he  need  not  be  concerned, 
as  he  knew,  by  money,  he  could  prevent  all  further  inqui- 
ry or  proceedings  against  him.  He  told  him,  also,  that 
Jasmyn  had  been  reported  ill,  and  his  trial  postponed. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  jailer,  "  and  before  it  comes  on,  I,  my- 
self, mean  to  be  among  the  missing." 

After  this  simple  stratagem  was  performed,  he   returned 


168 

to  Livingston  Lawn.  The  following  day,  after  some  final 
arrangements  had  been  made  with  his  Uncle,  he  left  the 
place,  not,  however,  before  he  had  visited  Sybil,  and  left 
with  her  a  handsome  gift,  and  the  encouraging  news  that 
there  would  be  no  pursuit  of  the  fugitives. 

"  God  bless  him  !"  said  Sybil,  as  she  watched  him  from 
the  door,  riding  up  the  road  on  horse-back,  shading  her 
eyes"  with  her  hand,  while  she  looked  after  him.  "  I  al- 
ways saw  something  good  at  work  with  him,  when  he  was 
wildest ;  I  always  said  he  would  turn,  and  when  he  did 
turn,  it  would  be  a  real  turn,  and  no  make-believe.  He 
has  put  more  heart  in  me,  than  I  have  had  this  many  a 
day  ;  God  bless  him  !  " 

St.  Vallery  took  the  same  road  the  carriage  had  taken, 
the  preceding  day.  He  followed  them,  not  merely  from  a 
romantic  interest,  but  because  he  felt  that  he  owed  Jonas 
a  generous  assistance.  He  regreted  that  he  had  not  ascer- 
tained their  destination,  but  only  knew  their  course,  while 
the  officers  attended  them. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

Wherein  Gilbert  relates  the  adventures  of  his  flight. 

Dark  was  the  night  when  we  parted,  but  darker  were 
our  prospects.  The  Fugitive  Slave  Law,  like  a  wall  of 
fire,  barred  usouton  every  hand,  from  human  aid.  Had  I 
been  alone,  my  flight  had  been  less  difficult,  but  although 
Marian  was  capable  of  great  and  patient  endurance,  she 
was  a  cause  of  much  anxiety  to  me.  Cornelia  had  provid- 
ed as  well  as  she  could,  but  we  had  neither  much  food  or 
money.  Yet,  we  trustingly  commended  ourselves  to  Him, 
who  is  able  to  spread  a  table  in  the  wilderness. 

Our  design  was,  after  crossing  the  mountains,  to  take  a 
northern  course.  We  dreaded  every  noise  ;  when  we  lurk- 
ed at  night,  we  saw  a  foe  ready  to  start  from  every  bush. 
The  sight  of  one  of  our  white  fellow  beings,  instead  of 
waking  glad  response  of  human  welcome,  sent  to  our  hearts 
a  sick,  and  shuddering  fear.  But  fear,  apprehension,  and 
fatigue,  finally  overcame  my  poor  sister.  She  was  unable 
to  keep  up  with  me.  But  "  Christ  often  for  the  saddest 
hour  reserves  the  sweetest  aid.1'  I  climbed  up  an  emi- 
nence, and  looking  around  espied  a  hut  which  from  its  ap- 
pearance, I  believed  to  be  the  shanty  of  some  Irishman. 
Leaving  Marian  situated  as  comfortable  as  I  could,  I  went 
on  to  the  hut  of  the  emigrant  to  ask  some  relief,  for  I  fear- 
ed she  would  die  from  hunger  and  weariness.  As  I  reach- 
15 


170 

ed  the  hut,  I  saw  the  emigrant  smoking  his  pipe,  at  the 
door. 

"  Can  you  give  shelter,"  said  I,  "  to  a  sick  lad,  who  is 
faint  by  the  road-side  ?  " 

"  To  be  sure,  and  I  will,"  said  he,  "  and  welcome  to 
such  as  it  is.  Been  sporting  in  the  woods  ?  "  said  he,  see- 
ing my  gun. 

':  A  little,"  said  I,  "  but  my  brother  is  not  a  very  good 
hunter,  and  has  suddenly  fallen  ill.'' 

"  I  understand  ye,  honey,"  said  the  Irishman  ;  "  Yees 
best  not  tell  me  no  more  nor  ye  like,  for,  by  my  faith,  ye're 
a  couple  of  run-a-ways  !  none  the  worse  for  that,  my  boy  ; 
is'nt  liberty  as  swate,  and  as  natural  to  you  as  to  me,  and 
is'nt  it  myself  has  come  all  the  way  from  ould  Ireland,  j'st, 
to  snuff  a  breath  of  fresh  air  here  in  the  wilderness  ? — will  I 
grudge  that  same  to  yourself?  no,  by  the  powers,  never  a 
bit." 

By  this  time,  we  had  came  to  the  spot  where  we  had 
left  Marian.  She  had  fainted  ! 

"  Ah,  cush  la  ma  chree,"  said  the  Irishman,  as  we  lifted 
her  up  ;  "  your  brother  is  as  beautiful  a  boy  as  ever  my  eyes 
beheld,  but  he  is  very  poorly ;  come,  we  will  take  him 
home.  He  is  very  dead  in  himself,  poor  fellow,  the  light 
of  heaven  be  on  his  sowl." 

We  took  Marian  into  the  hut,  laid  her  on  a  bed,  and, 
after  chafing  her  temples  awhile,  she  recovered.  This 
Christian  Irishman  then  gave  us  a  hearty  meal,  of  baked 
sweet  potatoes,  bread  and  bacon.  In  the  expressive  Scrip- 
ture phrase,  "  our  eyes  were  enlightened." 

"  Ye've  heard  of  the  new  law,  I  suppose,"  said  our 
host.  "  Bother  on  me,  but  it  is  a  divil  of  a  law,  any  how, 


171 

this  same  purgative  law.  It  goes  agin  my  stomach,  any 
way."  I  told  him  we  did  not  mean  to  trespass  long  on 
his  hospitality,  in  such  dangerous  times,  and  especially  in 
a  southern  country. 

"  1  don't  know  much  about  the  counthry  at  all,"  said 
he.  "  I  liked  the  land  well,  and  bought  a  little  patch  of 
a  farm  here,  but  Lord  save  us,  if  I  may  not  give  a  crust  of 
my  bread  to  a  poor  sowl,  I'm  for  a  short  stay  here.  I've 
lost  my  wife  since  I've  been  here,  as  cliver  and  nate  a 
crature  as  ye'd  feast  your  two  eyes  on,  and  two  pretty 
boys,  there  yonder,  is  their  graves,  the  dear  cratures.  I've 
lain  them  by  her  side,  God  bless  her !  " 

As  he  spoke  this,  he  dashed  away  his  tears,  and  gave 
three  or  four  long  whiffs  with  his  pipe.  "  I've  lost,"  said 
he,  "  what  made  this  lonesome  place,  home  to  me,  but 
that  is  not  so  hard,  as  not  to  have  the  liberty  of  giving  a 
Christian  a  throp  of  cold  water.  It's  no  liberty  at  all  I'm 
thinking.  Don't  you  be  after  stirring  to-night.  You? 
brother  may  slape  on  my  bed,  and  you  and  I  will  keep 
watch  with  Jowler." 

"  No,"  said  I,  "  my  good  friend,  we  must  not  trespass 
on  you,  it  might  cause  you  trouble  ;  here  is  a  silver  piece 
for  you." 

"  Yees  may  keep  your  silver  ;  it  would  be  a  long  way 
from  me  to  make  a  poor  man  any  the  poorer  ;  Heaven's 
got  a  very  narrow  gate  for  the  like  of  us  to  get  through, 
any  way.  Ye  need  not  lave  at  any  rate,  till  it  gets  late, 
for  1  like  your  company,  it  gives  me  heart." 

I  stopped  with  him  an  hour  or  two  longer,  for  I  wanted 
to  talk  with  him  about  the  best  things.  The  good  Irish- 
man lent  a  listening  ear,  and  promised  to  seek  that  inward 


172 

evidence  of  a  blood-bought  pardon,  of  which  I  told  him. 
About  midnight,  we  left  our  hospitable  Irishman.  Marian 
had  quite  recovered  her  strength,  by  the  generous  refresh- 
ment this  good  Samaritan  had  given  us.  A  few  nights  af- 
ter, we  had  like  to  have  fallen  into  the  hands  of  thieves. 
I  found  an  old,  desolate  house,  dilapidated  and  entirely  un- 
inhabited, except  one  old  kitchen  we  went  into  ;  we  saw 
some  rude  seats  here,  and  a  table.  There  was  ashes  on 
the  hearth,  and  raking  among  them,  we  perceived  that 
there  had  been  a  fire  there  recently,  which  was  not  yet  ex- 
tinguished. "  It  is  only  some  hunter's  fire,"  said  I,  for  I 
wanted  to  stay  and  cook  some  game  I  had.  I  did  so^  but 
felt  apprehensive  all  the  time.  After  we  had  eaten,  I  took 
a  look  around ,  and  found  an  old  cellar,  pretty  snug,  and 
remote  from  the  kitchen.  In  this  place  we  secreted  our- 
selves for  the  night,  as  well  as  we  could,  hiding  ourselves 
behind  the  fallen  remains  of  an  old  chimney.  We  heard 
soon  after,  the  tramp  of  horses.  Soon  the  sounds  of  laugh- 
ter and  jollity  came  from  the  old  kitchen.  1  could  not  re- 
sist my  curiosity  to  know  what  they  were  doing  ;  I  crept 
softly  around  to  the  kitchen  windows,  and  looking  in,  saw 
about  thirty  men  round  the  old  table,  drinking.  But  what 
painfully  drew  my  attention,  was  a  poor  black  man  tied 
up  with  ropes.  I  found  that  they  were  a  gang  of  rogues, 
who  robbed,  kidnapped,  or  broke  into  houses,  as  either 
seemed  most  profitable.  Oh  !  what  an  object  the  man  was  ; 
his  poor,  half-naked,  emaciated  body  deeply  furrowed  with 
the  marks  of  the  cruel  scourge,  his  rags  hanging  about 
him,  and  his  countenance  the  most  expressive  of  haggard 
fear  and  despair,  I  ever  saw. 

I  went  back  and  told  my  sister  what  I  had  seen. 


173 

"  These  men,"  said  I,  "  will  soon  be  dead  drunk  ;  we 
are  here  in  a  lonely  place  ;  we  might,  at  great  peril,  res- 
cue their  prisoner,  yet  we  ought  to  be  flying  from  this  place, 
this  very  moment." 

Marian  paused  a  moment,  thoughtfully.  "  'Tis  hard, 
Gibby,"  she  said,  "  to  risk  all,  but  what  should  we  ask 
him  to  do  for  us,  if  we  were  in  his  place  ?  " 

"  Then,  Marian,  I  must  leave  you  a  little  distance  off, 
that  you,  at  least,  may  escape." 

"  No,  dear  Gibby,"  said  she,  "  let  me  take  my  chance 
with  you." 

But  I  persisted,  telling  her  that  I  could  do  nothing,  if  she 
remained.  It  was  a  little  hollow  in  the  woods,  where  I  lo- 
cated Marian  ;  then  returning  to  the  house,  I  waited  until 
the  last  man  fell  under  the  table,  as  I  judged  from  the  si- 
lence that  ensued.  Soon  after,  I  cautiously  entered  the 
kitchen.  Every  one  of  these  wretched  men,  were  stretch- 
ed upon  the  floor.  I  made  a  gesture  to  the  prisoner  not  to 
speak  or  move.  I  then  took  a  large  butcher  knife,  cut  the 
ropes  that  bound  him,  and  made  a  motion  for  him  to  follow 
me.  The  poor  creature  gladly  obeyed.  We  went  silent- 
ly to  the  place  where  I  had  left  my  sister.  We  found  her 
praying  for  our  success.  We  told  the  man  we  would  help 
him  all  we  could  ;  our  provisions  were  scanty  enough,  but 
we  willingly  shared  with  him,  what  we  had.  "  Ours  was 
an  angel's  portion  then."  He  traveled  with  us  until  we 
arrived  in  a  free  State.  He  then  struck  off  in  another  di- 
rection, but  we  heard  from  him,  after  his  arrival  in  Canada. 
He  brought  us  a  blessing.  We  always  had  our  fill,  at  the 
homely  meals  we  shared  together.  One  day  we  found 

some  bread  and  game,  left  by  some  hunter.     Once  a  day, 
15* 


174 

we  prayed  to  Him  who  had  "  bought  us  with  a  price,"  bade 
us  not  to  be  the  servants  of  men,  and  to  call  no  man  mas- 
ter. We  were  now  in  a  free  State,  yet  I  did  not  feel  safe. 
Here  the  terror  of  the  law  reigned  ;  yet,  were  there  some 
who  quailed  not,  but  calmly  defied  the  power  of  evil.  I 
had  a  letter  from  Jonas,  to  a  certain  man  of  wealth,  an  ac- 
quaintance of  his,  a  professed  Anti-slavery  man.  One 
evening,  after  we  were  fairly  sick  with  fear  and  fatigue, 
we  knocked  at  his  door.  It  was  beginning  to  rain,  and  we 
thought  we  were  sure  of  a  comfortable  rest  and  shelter,  for 
the  night.  The  gentleman  came  to  the  door.  He  was  a 

sightly  well-to-do  looking  man  ;  we  asked  if  it  was  Mr. ; 

lie  surveyed  us  very  closely,  stepped  out  into  the  porch, 
and  half  closing  the  door,  says: 

"  You  are  fugitive  slaves,  are  you  not  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"I  am  sorry  that  I  cannot  receive  <you,  but  the  law  is 
very  severe,  and  this  is  a  pro-slavery  neighborhood." 

44  Are  you  not  an  abolitionist  ?  " 

"  No,  not  exactly  an  abolitionist,  but  I  am  an  anti-slavery 
man.  I  consider  it  an  ill  advised  thing,  for  you  slaves  to 
run  away,  at  all.  The  new  law  is  cruel  and  unjust. 
There  is  a  disposition,  among  rational  friends  of  the  slave, 
to  assist  and  protect  those  already  here,  but  you  that  come 
out  now,  after  you  know  your  risk,  must  not  expect  much 
encouragement." 

"  Sir,"  said  I,  "  would  you  have  us  stay  and  suffer  more 
than  ever  ?  for  this  law  makes  it  safe  for  the  slaveholder 
to  increase  his  cruelties." 

"  I  know  it  is  very  bad,"  said  the  gentleman,  "  but  I  do 
not  see  how  it  can  be  helped." 


175 

He  was  settling  his  spectacles,  and  about  to  go  in,  when 
I  presented  my  letter  from  Jonas  Freeman.  He  took  the 
letter  and  went  in,  but  returned  soon,  and  said: 

"  Friend  Jonas  has  got  into  trouble,  and  he  wants  others 
to  be  as  imprudent  as  himself.  Here,"  said  he,  handing 
me  a  small  piece  of  change,  "  this  is  all  I  am  able  to  give 
you,  just  now." 

"  But,  sir,  can  you  not  tell  us  where  we  can  lodge,  have 
you  no  barn  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  but  stop,  there  is  a  widow  woman  lives  down 
by  that  old  bridge.  She  has  nothing  to  lose,  but  the  old 
house  she  lives  in.  She  was  here  to-day,  with  some  work, 
and  said  her  door  should  be  open  to  every  fugitive  that 
came  along.  Her  name  is  Woodly." 

"  We  left  the  man,  sincerely  hoping,  all  the  other  anti- 
slavery  friends  we  met  with,  would  be  of  the  irrational  sort. 
We  felt  loth  to  trouble  the  poor  widow.  Unhappy  fugitive, 
a  source  of  danger  to  thy  best  friends.  Mrs,  Woodly's 
house  stood  on  the  out-skirts  of  the  village,  and  we  con- 
cluded to  stop  there  till  the  rain  was  over,  which  was  now 
falling  fast.  Stern  necessity  drove  us  on.  We  reached 
the  house  ;  how  different  from  the  stately  mansion  we  had 
left.  Some  rose  bushes,  and  an  elm,  at  a  little  distance, 
were  its  rural  ornaments.  We  knocked.  A  little,  pleas- 
ant looking,  chubby  faced  boy  opened  the  door. 
"  Is  Mrs.  Woodly  at  home  ? " 

"  Yes,  sir,  but  come  in,  don't  stand  in  the  rain,  I  will 
go  and  find  mother."  The  manner  of  a  child  almost 
always  indicates  the  real  character  of  the  family,  and  this 
hospitable  admittance  ensured  our  welcome.  We  accept- 
ed the  invitation  of  the  little  welcomer.  We  entered  a 


176 

neat,  plain  room.  Two  ruddy  children  were  sitting  togeth- 
er, in  a  large  rocking-chair,  singing  that  most  touching  of 
all  anti-slavery  melodies,  The  "Blind  Child  to  his  Mother." 
Their  plain  supper,  of  bread  and  milk,  was  on  the  table. 
Every  thing  showed  a  well  ordered  economy,  from  the 
clean,  thrifty  rag  carpet  on  the  floor,  to  the  neat  check 
apron  of  the  children.  Presently,  Mrs.  Woodly  came  in, 
just  such  a  motherly  woman  as  we  expected  to  see. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you,"  said  she,  "  I  know  what  sort  of 
people  you  are.  Welcome,  in  the  name  of  Him  who  had 
not  where  to  lay  his  head." 

"  Then  you  are  not  afraid  of  the  risk,"  said  I,  "  it  is  only 
necessity  that  has  caused  us  to  trouble  you." 

"  I  believe  in  God,"  said  she,  with  glistening  eyes, 
"  and  I  feel,  that  in  denying  you  a  shelter,  I  should  be 
shutting  my  door  on  the  Saviour.  You  are  welcome  to  the 
best  I  have." 

Oh  !  Webster,  thou  couldst  not  make  this  woman  poor, 
with  the  talons  of  the  Fugitive  Law  upon  her,  and  the  Uni- 
ted States  at  thy  back.  What  a  welcome  we  had;  how  cheer- 
fully she  rummaged  out  the  choicest  of  her  simple  danties, 
for  us.  The  spirit  of  Mary,  who  poured  the  precious  oint- 
ment over  the  feet  of  Jesus,  was  in  this  woman.  Some 
would  have  satisfied  their  charity,  in  giving  two  such  sad 
looking  outlaws  as  we  were,  some  coarse  food,  in  a  coarse 
way  ;  but  no,  the  nice  home-spun  linen  damask  cloth,  her 
mother's  own  spinning,  ( Heaven  rest  her  soul,  for  giv- 
ing birth  to  such  a  daughter,)  was  brought  forth,  the  best 
china  she  had,  and  the  best  fare  she  had,  was  on  the  table, 
and  as  we  drew  around,  she  looked  up  for  a  blessing,  and 
said,  come  Lord,  and  partake  with  us  in  the  person  of  thy 


177 

poor  outcasts  ;  come  Lord,  and  bless  me  and  my  children, 
and  the  stranger  within  our  gates.  Poor  fugitive  Pilgrims, 
after  sore  trials  are  often  brought  to  some  "  House  Beauti- 
ful, or  hospitable  shepherds."  After  supper,  Mary,  James 
and  Robert,  sang  many  anti-slavery,  and  devotional  hymns. 
When  we  retired,  it  was  to  the  best  room,  and  the  best 
bed.  We  told  her  we  should  leave  as  soon  as  the  storm 
abated. 

"  Go  when  you  will,"  said  she,  "  the  blessing  of  God  go 
with  you." 

We  left  before  day,  as  we  were  cautious  not  to  give  trou- 
ble. We  went  on.  At  the  next  stopping-place,  we  had 
another  letter  to  deliver,  from  Jonas.  We  entered  the 
village  late  in  the  evening,  but  going  to  the  house  found  it 
closed.  It  was  a  nice,  two-story  house.  We  felt  disap- 
pointed and  turned  away,  when  a  man  who  kept  a  grocery 
near  by,  and  was  closing  his  windows,  said  to  us,  "  are 
you  looking  for  Mr. ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,  he  is  not  there.  Step  in  here  to  my  shop,  and 
I  will  tell  you."  He  told  us  that  his  neighbor,  who  was 
one  of  the  kindest  of  men,  had  just  lost  every  cent  for  har- 
boring a  fugitive.  "  That  house,"  said  he,  "  he  earned  by 
his  own  hard  labor,  and  it  seems  a  sin  and  shame,  to  have 
it  taken  from  him  by  a  wicked  law,  for  the  sake  of  those 
who  never  earned  a  cent,  and  never  will.  Don't  be  afraid 
of  me,"  he  added,  as  we  looked  at  one  another,  "  I  am  his 
wife's  brother  ;  Sally  and  her  four  pretty  children,  are  at 
my  house  ;  he,  poor  man,  is  in  prison.  I  am  poor,  but  if 
I  part  with  my  last  cent,  they  shall  not  lack  anything. 
You  see  we  are  all  slaves  in  one  sense,  for  what  is  Liber- 


178 

ty,  if  we  may  not  serve  God  according  to  our  own  con- 
science, by  doing  good.  I  can  give  you  some  crackers 
and  cheese,  and  can  take  my  wagon  and  carry  you  a  piece, 
and  ihat  is  all  I  am  able  to  do." 

This  he  did,  and  we  were  glad  of  his  assistance.  Noth- 
ing more  of  any  importance  bcfcl  us.  We  reached  Phila- 
delphia, and  the  house  of  our  friends  in  safety.  We  kept 
very  close,  waiting  for  the  arrival  of  our  comrades,  before 
we  should  push  on  farther.  We  were  troubled  to  hear 
that  Jonas  and  his  daughter  had  not  arrived,  as  they  had 
agreed  to  come  hither,  if  Jonas  was  released.  This,  and 
our  concern  for  Cornelia  and  Jasmyn,  affected  the  joy  we 
felt  in  being  with  these  Christian  friends  ;  Christians  not 
ID  name  only,  but  in  deed  and  in  truth. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

The  narrator  resumes  the  story. 

It  was  drawing  near  the  close  of  day,  and  evening  sat 
on  her  gorgeous  western  throne.  One  fair  star  had  arisen, 
and  the  new  moon's  amber  crescent  was  seen  in  the  clear 
sky.  The  closing  harmonies  of  day  arose  from  the  woods, 
and  mingling  with  the  murmur  of  waters,  and  the  play  of 
the  wind  among  the  trees,  refreshed  and  touched  the  soul. 
A  young  horseman  was  riding  over  a  mountainous  road  at 
this  time.  As  the  road  swept  along  the  green  uplands,  a 
country-inn  appeared  in  sight,  its  ancient  sign  swinging 
from  the  branches  of  an  old  oak,  and  gilded  by  the  setting 
sun.  Alh  the  old  windows  of  the  antiquated  house  were, 
in  poet's  phrase,  "  burnished  by  the  setting  sun."  Here 
our  traveler  reined  up,  and  alighting  from  his  horse,  walk- 
ed up  to  the  door,  to  inquire  if  he  could  be  lodged  for  the 
night.  He  knocked,  and  the  landlady  opened  the  door, 
and  presented  herself,  one  of  these  portly,  good-humored 
characters,  with  a  face  full  of  business,  and  given  to  gossip. 

"Can  I  lodge  here  to-night,  madam  ?  "    was  the  inquiry. 

"  Oh  !  yes  sir,  walk  in,  this  is  the  parlor,  sir,  we  will 
soon  have  your  room  ready  ;  any  supper,  sir  ?  " 

"  Yes,  madam." 

"  What  will  you  please  to  have  ?  " 

"  It  matters  little,"  said  the  stranger,  "  any  thing  you 
please.  Have  you  any  guests,  madam  ?  " 


180 

"  Not  many  just  now,  only  a  sick  Quaker  gentleman, 
and  his  daughter,  and  another  Quaker  woman  who  came 
with  them." 

A  flush  came  across  the  «heek  of  the  stranger.  "  Is  the 
old  gentleman  very  sick  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  yes,  sir  ;  the  Doctor  says  he  cannot  live.  I'm 
looking  for  his  daughter  to  be  sick  too,  for  -she  waits  upon 
him,  and  watches  over  him,  day  and  night,  poor,  young 
thing.  I  think  she  is  about  the  most  beautifulest  young 
woman  I  ever  saw.  I  didn't  make  out  anything  about 
them  ;  they  are  very  still-mouthed  folks,  but  I  am  quite 
the  reverse,  sir,  I  can  assure  you  ;  all  is  right  up  and  down, 
with  me  ;  all  above  board." 

"  Have  you  a  pen  and  ink,  madam  ?  I  should  like  to 
have  writing  materials,  directly.." 

"  I'll  send  Jim  right  up  with  them  sir,  and  when  will  you 
have  supper  ?  " 

"  In  an  hour  or  two  hence." 

The  landlady  then  left  the  room,  determined  to  find  out 
all  about  this  new  comer.  She  went  to  the  kitchen,  and 
dispatching  Jim  with  the  writing  materials,  thus  addressed 
her  helpmate,  a  tall,  raw-boned  man,  rather  sparing  of 
speech,  a  complete  contrast  to  his  wife 

"  There's  a  traveler  stopped,  Mr.  Jobson." 

"  What  of  that,  Betsey,  we  must  take  care  of  him,  that's 
the  whole  of  it" 

"  Why,  Mr.  Jobson,  he  is  one  of  the  handsomest  young 
men  I  ever  saw,  and  if  I  was  to  guess — ," 

"  What  is  the  use  of  guessing  anything  about  it,  Mrs. 
Jobson,  don't  I  tell  you  all  you  have  to  do  is  to  give  him  a 
clean  bed,  and  the  sort  of  supper  he  likes." 


181 

"  Dear  me,  husband,  that  is  always  the  way  you  go  on, 
but  you  may  depend  upon  it,  this  young  man  is  none  of 
your  common  sort,  but  if  I  was  to  guess — " 

"  Have  not  I  requested  that  you  should  not  guess  at  all," 
said  Mr  Jobson,  thrusting  his  hands  into  his  pocket,  (which 
is  a  gesture  significant  of  domestic  authority.)  Many  a 
loaf  of  bread  has  been  burnt  in  that  oven,  Mrs.  Jobson, 
while  you  have  been  guessing  out  about  people  ;  you  have 
nothing  to  do  with,  but  to  give  them  good  board  and  lodg- 
ing." 

"  Well,  you  are  the  strangest  man,  Mr.  Jobson,  no  more 
interest, — but  here  comes  Jim,  with  a  note,  that  gentleman 
has  been  writing.  Now,  Jim,"  said  she,  pushing  down 
her  spectacles,  "  let  me  just  look  at  that  note.  Husband, 
you  may  say  what  you  will,  that  young  man  is  as  grand  a 
gentleman." 

"  What  if  he  is,  what  is  that  to  us  !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Job- 
son." 

"  Do  see  what  a  beautiful  hand  writing.  Why,  if  it  is'nt 
directed  to  the  old  gentleman,  up  stairs  ! " 

"  Is  this  any  of  your  concern  ?  Betsey,  why  do  you  de- 
lay the  letter;  Jim,  take  the  note  directly  to  the  person  it 
is  addressed  to." 

"  I'll  take  it  up  myself,"  said  the  landlady,  wiping  the 
corners  of  her  mouth  with  her  chex  apron.  "  I'll  know  the 
up-shot  of  this." 

She  went  up  stairs,  and  rapped  at  the  door  of  the  sick 
man's  room.  A  young  girl,  in  a  loose  wrapping  gown, 
opened  the  door,  received  the  note,  and  thanked  the  bearer. 
It  was  no  offence  to  our  landlady's  ideas  of  morality  or 
honor  to  listen,  on  particular  occasions.  She  put  her  ear 
16 


close  to  the  key  hole,  and  partially  heard  Airnee  read  to 
her  father,  in  a  low  tone,  these  words:— 1  have  sought  you, 
my  respected  friend,  not  only  for  the  interest  I  have  in  you, 
but  because  I  wish  to  learn  if  Marian  has  yet  received  her 
manumission  papers.  I  should  be  too  happy  to  find  myself 
under  the  same  roof  with  you,  if  I  had  not  learned  that  you 
were  ill.  Alas,  this  is  one  of  the  great  evils  of  slavery  ;  it 
unavoidably  arrays  against  us  the  noblest  hearts,  and  often, 
as  at  this  time,  causes  ruin  and  suffering  to  the  most  gener- 
ous of  men.  Can  you  forgive  one  who  has,  though  indi- 
rectly, occasioned  such  distress  ?  I  owe  you  more  than  life. 
Will  you  generously  accept  that  aid,  I  should  esteem  it  the 
highest  favor  to  give  ?  It  is  my  earnest  wish,  and  would  but 
begin  the  reparation  I  owe  to  God,  to  you,  and  my  fellow- 
men.  If  you  are  not  too  weak  to  allow  me  an  interview, 
it  would  be  a  great  relief  to  an  oppressed  and  penitent  heart, 
to  hear  you  say,  I  forgive  you.  Very  truly  yours, 

ARTHUR  ST.  VALLERY. 

This  letter  seemed  to  give  much  satisfaction  to  those 
within  the  chamber  ;  but  Mrs.  Jobson  did  not  wait  to  hear 
any  more,  but  hastened  down  stairs  to  her  husband. 

"  There,"  said  she,  sitting  down  beside  him,  "  you  never 
want  to  know  nothing,  Mr.  Jobson,  and  you  never  will ;  I've 
got  the  whole  clue  to  that  young  man's  business,  besides 
some  light  upon  them  Quakers." 

"  What  is  that  to  you,  Mrs.  Jobson  ?  Have  you  any 
right  to  have  any  light  on  those  people,  or  any  clue  to  that 
young  man's  business  ?  Have  I  not  told  you  every  day,  as 
many  hours  as  there  is  in  the  day,  that  you  have  no  more 


to  do  with  the  family  affairs  of  folks  as  comes  here  for 
board  and  lodging,  than  our  hostler  has  to  know  all  about 
the  horses  he  puts  up  ?  He  stables  them,  and  feeds  them, 
that  is  all  his  concern  ;  and  all  yours,  is  to  lodge  and  board 
your  customers." 

"  I  would  not  compare  folks  with  brute  beasts,  husband, 
but  I  know  one  thing,  that  gentleman  did  not  come  here 
for  nothing,  to-night,"  said  the  landlady,  taking  a  pinch  of 
snuff. 

"  I  suppose  he  did  not,"  said  Mr.  Jobson,  drily  ;  "  but 
he  will  get  nothing,  without  you  stop  talking,  and  stir  round 
and  get  his  supper." 

"  Ah,"  says  she,  "  he  cares  little  what  he  eats,  from 
what  I  can  find." 

"  What  right  have  you  to  find  any  thing,  but  board  and 
lodging  ?  " 

"  I  will  tell  you  this  much,"  said  Mrs.  Jobson,  "  "'tis  a 
love  affair  ;  them  Quakers  is  so  awful  set,  and  it  seems  he 
owes  the  old  man  a  power  of  money,  but  he  cannot  break 
up  the  match,  that's  my  opinion,"  said  she,  closing  with 
another  great  pinch  of  snuff. 

"  What  right  have  you  to  have  any  opinion  about  them, 
except  whether  they  can  foot  their  bills  or  not,  that's  your 
sphere,  Mrs.  Jobson." 

"  I'll  never  tell  you  any  thing  more,"  said  Mrs.  Jobson, 
"  for  you  are  the  most  disinterested  person  I  ever  saw,  ex- 
cept about  your  own  petty  affairs." 

With  these  words,  the  busy  landlady  put  up  her  snuff 
box,^uid  went  her  way. 

As  our  friend  Arthur  sat  at  supper,  a  note  was  handed 


184 

him.     It  was  a  beautiful,  fair,  free  flowing   hand,  and  ran 
thus: — 

"  My  father  returns   many  thanks  to  our   friend,  and 
will  be  glad  to  see  him  this  evening." 

AIMEE  FREEMAN. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

The  narrator  goes  on  with  the  history 

The  large,  antiquated  room  in  which  the  sick  man  lay, 
was  a  beautiful  place  for  a  Christian  believer  to  pass  from 
to  his  eternal  rest.  It  overlooked  a  wide,  delicious  valley. 
The  crystal  streams  from  the  mountains,  the  fertile  fields 
and  the  fair  farms  looked  all  delightful  repcse  and  beauty. 
The  early  moon,  the  many  quiet  stars,  seemed  watching 
to  see  the  declining  hours  of  a  faithful  martyr.  Jonas  had 
taken  the  jail  fever,  and  it  had  left  him  very  weak.  The 
soft  light  of  a  shaded  lamp,  showed  the  celestial  calm  of 
his  countenance.  Aimee  sat  by  his  side  fanning  him,  and 
tenderly  conversing  with  him,  when  Arthur  rapped  at  the 
door.  Dorcas  Hart  opened  it,  and  gave  him  her  hand 
kindly. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  thee,  friend  Arthur,"  said  Jonas,  "I 
have  much  to  say  to  thee,  and  many  thanks  to  give  thee. 
My  dearest  Aimee  tells  me  I  may  recover,  but  there  is 
that  within  me  tells  me  the  time  has  come,  for  me  to  be 
gathered.  Do  not  weep,  Aimee,  thou  must  pray  for  wil- 
ingness  that  his  will  may  be  done." 

"  Oh  !  my  friend."  said  Arthur,  "  can  you  forgive  rne." 

"  I  have  little  to  forgive  thee,"  said  Jonas,  "  thou  hast 
not  been  the  direct  cause  of  this,  but  thy  poor  slaves,  now 
under  Ihe  lash,  on  thy  vast  estates,  they  have  much  to  for- 
give thee  ;  and  thy  God,  whom  thou  hast  not  feared,  he 
has  much  to  forgive  thee.  Oh  !  my  young  friend,  thou 

weepest,  and  I  would  not   grieve  thee,   except   to  waken 
16* 


186 

thee  to  repentance  unto  life.  Thou  hast  not  yet  submit- 
ted unto  God."  Much  more  Jonas  said,  great  power  be- 
ing given  him  to  bear  a  faithful  testimony. 

The  soul  of  the  young  man  was  convulsed  ;  at  length 
he  sunk  upon  his  knees,  and  prayed. 

"  Oh  !  merciful  Redemer,  whose  sufferings  I  have  so 
long  abused,  may  a  heavy  laden  sinner  come  to  thee. 
Give  me  strength  to  unbind  the  heavy  burdens,  to  break 
every  yoke,  and  to  let  the  oppressed  go  free.  Here,  in 
the  presence  of  thy  children,  I  do  solemnly  promise  thee  to 
unbind  the  heavy  burdens,  and  to  let  the  oppressed  go 
free.  Here,  1  solemnly  promise  to  free  all  my  slaves  ;  oh ! 
that  I  could  free  every  slave  under  the  canopy  of  thy  Hea- 
ven. And,  oh  !  my  Father,  help  me,  and  accept  me,  for 
the  sake  of  him  who  has  freed  my  captive  soul.  Amen."' 
Jonas,  much  moved,  placed  his  hands  upon  his  head, 
and  gave  him  his  blessing,  in  the  beautiful  scripture  form, 
beginning — "  the  Lord  bless  thee,  and  keep  thee." 

Arthur  then  had  some  conversation  with  them,  in  re- 
lation to  his  arrangements,  and  then  retired,  for  his  heart 
was  too  full  that  night,  for  any  company  but  that  of  his 
own  thoughts,  and  his  newly  found  Heavenly  Father. 
Aimee  sat  in  weeping  silence  all  the  evening. 

This  scene,  so  pleasing  in  itself,  had  been  too  much  for 
her  father's  exhausted  frame.  Soon  after  Arthur  retired, 
she  perceived  a  change  for  the  worse,  in  her  dear  father. 
She  called  Dorcas  and  Mrs.  Jobson,  who  although  she  was 
an  inveterate  gossip,  and  of  a  light  temper,  had  a  kindly 
heart,  and  at  times,  serious  feelings.  They  sat  up  that 
night.  When  the  next  morning's  sun  shone  on  that  quiet 
valley,  its  beams  fell  upon  the  face  of  him,  who  through 


187 

grace,  had  been  faithful  unto  death.  He  slept  in  Jesus, 
his  locks  parted  on  that  venerable  brow,  and  a  smile  of 
triumph  that  told  of  an  opening  heaven,  lingering  on  his 
lips.  Aimee  sat  by  his  side,  no  longer  convulsed  with 

grief,  but  as  if  her  spirit  shared  her  Father's  victory. 

******* 

It  had  been  arranged  in  the  evening's  conversation,  that 
St.  Vallery  should  write  to  Philadelphia,  announcing  to  the 
friends  there,  that  he  was  coming,  and  for  what  object ; 
but  ere  mailing  his  letter,  he  had  to  report  the  death  of  Jo- 
nas, and  that  probably  Dorcas  and  Aimee  would  accom- 
pany him  after  the  funeral.  It  was  the  wish  of  Jonas  to 
be  buried  in  that  quiet  valley,  near  which  he  had  so  bless- 
edly resigned  his  breath.  That  duty  done,  Arthur  attend- 
ed Dorcas  and  Aimee  to  Philadelphia.  On  reaching  the 
house,  they  found  Cornelia  and  Gilbert,  Marian  and  Jas- 
myn,  ready  to  receive  them.  What  a  meeting  was  this. 

"  1  have  come  to  give  you  freedom,"  said  St.  Vallery, 
"  and  not  only  to  you,  but  I  mean  to  free  every  slave  who 
calls  me  master." 

Thanks  and  blessings  were  showered  upon  him  ;  the  re- 
cent death  of  Jonas  mellowed,  but  did  not  disturb  the  hap- 
piness, for  was  he  not  happy  too,  was  he  not  with  them. 
Gilbert  and  Cornelia  had  been  married  soon  after  their 
arrival  in  Philadelphia,  expecting  at  the  time  to  leave  for 
Canada.  It  was  late  in  the  evening  before  the  happy  par- 
ty seperated.  St.  Vallery  went  to  a  hotel  in  the  neighbor- 
hood. He  said  to  Aimee,  as  he  left  her,  "  to-morrow  I 
must  leave  for  my  great  work.  In  the  morning  he  re- 
turned to  his  new  friends.  Jasmyn  and  Marian,  Gilbert 
and  Cornelia  were  present  to  receive  him.  He  generous- 


188 

ly  gave  to  each  of  the  young  couple  money  sufficient  to 
buy  and  stock  a  farm,  for,  said  he,  "I  do  not  mean  to  make 
you  free,  and  leave  you  poor." 

The  kind  Friends  were  very  glad  to  see  him  again,  but 
he  missed  Aimee  from  the  circle.  One  of  the  daughters 
reading  his  look,  said  to  him,  "  she  whom  thou  missest  is 
in  the  garden."  He  rose  and  sought  her  there.  She  was 
sitting  in  the  door-way  of  a  summer-house.  She  had  gone 
there  to  indulge  her  own  sad  thoughts,  for  she  could  not 
but  deeply  mourn  such  a  father.  She  looked  pensive  and 
thoughtful.  Arthur  came  and  stood  beside  her. 

•'  You  look  sad,  Aimee,"  said  he. 

"  I  ought  to  be  happy,"  said  she,  "  in  seeing  our  friends 
so  happy  as  thy  goodness  has  made  them,  and  yet  I  can- 
not be  happy.  Since  my  father's  death,  I  have  such  a 
void,  I  so  miss  his  tenderness  and  love." 

"  Is  there  no  one,"  said  St.  Vallery,  "  that  might  fill 
that  void  in  thy  heart.  Oh,  Aimee,  hear  me,  hear  me  ! 
from  the  first  time  I  heard  thy  voice,  my  soul  was  thine, 
though  I  knew  it  not.  Pride,  the  pride  of  this  world  was 
strong  against  my  loving  Christ,  or  loving  thee,  but  the 
scene  in  the  prison,  thy  father's  behavior  on  his  trial,  and 
thine  own,  sweet  Aimee,  that  happy  death  bed,  that  sol- 
emn warning  given  me  from  the  lips  of  dying  faith,  all 
melted  down  my  stubborn  heart.  There  was  no  pride 
then  in  the  way,  and  1  felt  that  thou  wert  most  dearly  be- 
loved. Is  there  no  answer  in  thy  heart  for  me,  Aimee  ?  1 
have  sometimes  felt  that  there  was." 

There  was  no  answer,  but  Aimee's  tears  ;  what  need  of 
words  ?  Oh,  blessed  tears,  in  which  two  young  hearts 


189 

were  baptized  into  an  undying  love  !  how  ye  gushed  from 
their  eyes,  as  every  restraint  gave  way. 

"  I  had  purposed,"  said  Arthur,  "  not  to  speak  of  my 
love  for  thee,  till  my  work  was  done,  but  when  I  saw  thy 
sadness,  and  heard  thee  speak  of  thy  loneliness,  how  couid 
I  refrain  ? 

******  * 

Gilbert  and  Jasmyn  purchased  two  farms  in  the  near 
neighborhood,  and  Jasmyn  soon  welcomed  his  grandmoth- 
er to  his  new  abode.  Airnee,  as  soon  as  they  were  settled, 
went  to  visit  them.  While  there,  she  received  the  follow- 
ing letter  from  Arthur: 

"  All  is  done,  my  Aimee  ;  I  have  moved  promptly,  but 
cautiously.  I  have  purchased  Gilbert's  freedom ;  and 
now,  Aimee,  in  a  short  time  we  shall  meet  again.  Your 
father's  prophecy  is  accomplished.  I  am  in  a  Paradise  of 
joy  and  acceptance.  I  am  many  times  a  freeman,  for 
every  slave  I  have  enlarged,  has  enlarged  the  liberty  of  my 
soul.  Around  thy  dear  image,  hopes  gather,  'bright,  bright 

as  the  morning.'  "  ARTHUR. 

#****** 

The  sun  had  departed,  but  that  long  loving,  lingering 
glow  had  succeeded,  which  twilight  wears  in  the  islands 
of  the  blest.  In  the  verandah  of  a  beautiful  dwelling,  was  a 
newly  wedded,  youthful  pair.  Sweet  were  the  gales  of 
balm  from  the  groves  of  the  orange,  but  more  grateful  to 
that  gentle  pair,  was  the  sight  of  the  cheerful  cottages  of 
the  free  laborer,  that  gladdened  the  scene.  Deep  was  the 
gratitude  of  that  youthful  pair,  to  the  God  who  made  them 
one.  It  was  Arthur  and  Aimee  St.  Vallery.  They  were 
not  alone,  ^t  a  little  distance,  were  Marian  and  Jasmyn, 


190 

strolling  through  the  walks.  But  while  they  were  all  en- 
joying an  evening  so  lovely  that  Heaven  seemed  to  draw 
near  to  earth,  there  came  a  voice  down  through  that  soft, 
calm  air, — 

Twice,  thrice  through  the  Furnace  past, 

Happy  and  free,  and  saved  at  last. 


